Charade
by phati-sari
Summary: (IPKKND AU) Some relationships are tied in extraordinary ways. They begin with conflict and grow in hatred. The hatred grows as the relationship deepens. Until one day, even hatred itself is reluctant to grow and only the bond remains. And isn't it naive to have expectations from a relationship founded in hatred?
1. Teaser 1

**Arnav**

 _"I only want you, Khushi-ji. I don't accept Rani Sahiba as my wife. And this marriage is meaningless to me. Believe me, Khushi-ji, I love only you, and I love you a lot."_

Tears spilled over his fingers and wrists, and into the fabric of his shirt.

 _"If that relationship holds no significance for you, then why don't you break your marriage? Leave Anjali-ji."_

The first instinct of Arnav Singh Raizada, the scion who had built an empire from less than nothing, was to protect his sister from anything and everything.

 _Di, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, but I can't hide this from you. I have to tell you, even though it will cause a lot of pain._

He strode to his wardrobe and carelessly pulled out a set of clothes to change into.

Black with black with black, to match his mood.

And into this she came, still clad in burnt orange, her hands twisting and untwisting as she pressed the door closed behind her. Tears shone in her eyes.

"Arnav-ji, I have ... I have to tell you something."

* * *

 _Author's Note: RISHTAA is a happy story, a family story, and I need to be in a certain space to write it well._

 _Right now my head isn't in that space. It's here, in a darker, edgier, rather more painful story._

This story will not update to a schedule _. I will write it when I can, and update it whenever possible._

 _If you choose to follow it, then I hope you like it :)_


	2. Teaser 2

**Khushi**

"I saw. I saw you on the terrace."

The world seemed to spin, and suddenly she was glad for the wall at her back and the fingers that dug into her skin, because without them she might have fallen to the ground. Her body tried to stiffen in fear and sag with relief all at once.

It was over.

He knew.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Eeeeek who's excited? I have all the excite :D_


	3. Prologue: Arnav

**Prologue: Arnav**

Arnav walked in a stupor, his body relying on instinct to navigate the sprawling corridors of his home as his mind busily replayed the horror of the last three minutes.

 _Khushi in Shyam's embrace, his arms tight around her._

 _"I only want you, Khushi-ji. I don't accept Rani Sahiba as my wife. Believe me, Khushi-ji, I love only you, and I love you a lot."_

 _"If that relationship holds no significance for you, then why don't you break your marriage? Leave Anjali-ji."_

Guests stepped forward to greet him, to congratulate him on his brother's wedding and to enquire about his own long-delayed nuptials, but they went unnoticed as he hurried past.

The image of Khushi in his brother-in-law's arms burnt into his retinas. The words they'd used to betray everything he held dear tore his heart to shreds.

But it was only when he was shut in his bedroom that the full breadth of their treachery became clear. He gritted his teeth against the onslaught of memories.

 _Di taking obeisance at her husband's feet — "What are you doing, Rani Sahiba, your place isn't at my feet but here." — Shyam offering a raksha dhaga — "I can't refuse you, Jija-ji." — Shyam breaking Di's fast on Teej. Shyam carrying Di through the house._

 _Lies. All fucking lies._

Tears — of rage, not betrayal, he told himself — formed.

 _Di introducing Shyam to Khushi — "Khushi-ji, this is my husband, the world's best husband."_

Bands seemed to tighten across his chest.

 _Had that been the beginning? Or were they already …_

Nausea and rage and panic unfurled within him as he recalled Di's third wedding anniversary, his body trembling as the cocktail of emotions took hold. He flung off his tie, desperately gasping air into his lungs, and followed it with the jacket that suddenly seemed too tight. Then he sat on the edge of his bed, hands cupped around his nose and mouth as he tried to force calmness into his limbs and into his mind.

 _"I only want you, Khushi-ji. I don't accept Rani Sahiba as my wife. And this marriage is meaningless to me. Believe me, Khushi-ji, I love only you, and I love you a lot."_

Tears spilled over his fingers and wrists, and into the fabric of his shirt.

 _"If this relationship means nothing to you, then why don't you break this marriage? Leave Anjali-ji!"_

The first instinct of Arnav Singh Raizada, the scion who'd built an empire from less than nothing, was to protect his sister from anything and everything. Every fibre of his being wanted to protect the woman who'd already withstood so much, endured too much, but he knew that wasn't the answer.

 _Di, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, but I can't hide this from you. I have to tell you, even though it will cause a lot of pain._

She would be heartbroken, her life shattered once again, but it was a thousand times better than the alternative. The decision made, he snatched his discarded jacket from the bed and started to pull it on, but anger and frustration made him careless. The delicate fabric tore.

"Fucking … piece of …" he growled, untangling himself from the ruined garment.

Then he strode to his wardrobe and carelessly pulled out a set of clothes to change into.

Black with black with black, to match his mood.

And into this she came, still clad in burnt orange, her hands twisting and untwisting as she pressed the door closed behind her. Tears shone in her eyes.

"Arnav-ji, I have … I have to tell you something."

* * *

 _I know I made a teaser out of the prologue, but this is the entire chapter so you can see where Arnav's mind is at :)_

 _ **A friendly reminder that this story will NOT update to a schedule.** Please don't comment asking for more updates, it will only upset me.  
_

 _I hope you liked it!_


	4. Chapter 1: Catastrophe

**Chapter 1: Catastrophe**

* * *

 **Khushi**

"I have to tell Arnav-ji about Shyam-ji."

Khushi hurried down the stairs from the guest room, her mind racing. Months ago, she'd deluded herself into thinking Shyam-ji could change, that he was capable of being the husband Anjali-ji thought he was, _that he wanted to be that husband_. But tonight, the night of her sister's long awaited wedding, he'd shown her just how wrong she'd been.

Everything had changed.

Her instinct to protect Arnav-ji and Anjali-ji from the pain of learning the hideous truth had been dwarfed by the need to protect herself and her sister from Shyam-ji.

She needed to reveal the secret she'd hidden from the man she loved.

She needed to build this relationship they were exploring on a bedrock of honesty.

The thought of him, the man who'd once promised his support in a hospital corridor, who'd gifted her the bangles that now chimed on her wrists, who'd hinted at a proposal this very afternoon, gave Khushi the strength she needed. Though he was yet to give voice to his feelings, she trusted what he'd seen in his eyes. He'd know what to do. He'd protect her as only he could.

She pulled open a door.

"Hari—" Hari Prakash-ji rushed past without noticing her.

Fighting back tears, Khushi murmured Arnav-ji's name in a litany as she continued her search, now heading towards his bedroom. A terrible fear gripped her heart, some premonition taking hold and half convincing her that something would go horribly wrong if she didn't find him before the ceremony.

 _He has to know so he can protect Jiji. She'll be living under his roof from tonight._

And maybe ... hopefully ... she would soon join her sister.

Khushi paused at the doors to his bedroom, taking a moment to compose herself. She tried to still the tremble of her hands. Her heart hammered so fast it was painful.

 _Please help me, Devi Maiyya._

She pushed the door open without knocking, a relieved breath leaving her when she registered his form standing at the foot of the bed. Stepping inside, she closed the door with a gentle click.

Only now, in the sanctuary of his bedroom, did she allow herself to _feel_. The revulsion of Shyam-ji's touch, the horror of his words and intentions, the helplessness she'd felt as he'd held her. She trembled, her hands visibly shaking when she spread them out in front of her.

"Arnav-ji, I have ... I have to tell you something," she curled her fingers into a fist.

As her mind tried to process the chaos of the last hour, she became acutely aware of the danger she'd been in. It had only been Shyam-ji's belief in his love for her that'd stopped him from going further on the terrace, but she knew from the bruises he'd left on the _Sangeet_ night that he was capable of more, _much more_.

She felt cold, as if she would never be warm again.

"Arnav-j—" she sobbed, taking three quick steps towards him before realising that something was amiss.

Because he had not moved.

He remained still and silent at the foot of his bed, his eyes shadowed.

Her steps faltered, "What's wro—"

"Don't you dare."

His hands were fisted at his sides.

She frowned in confusion, coming to a standstill some three paces from him. "Arnav-ji?"

"Get out!"

"But—"

There was a blur of movement, and then she was pressed against the wall of his bedroom, his hands gripping her upper arms. He shook with barely controlled rage.

"I. Said. GET OUT!"

Khushi froze in shock.

"Before I do something I'll regret," Arnav-ji continued, his tone low and furious, "Get the fuck out."

It occurred to her to be afraid but the sight of this man in pain had always eclipsed all other concerns. She twisted, trying to loosen his grip. His hands tightened.

"What happened?" she ignored the quaver in her voice.

"I saw. I saw you on the terrace."

The world seemed to spin, and suddenly she was glad for the wall at her back and the fingers that dug into her skin because without them she might have fallen to the ground. Her body tried to stiffen in fear and sag with relief all at once.

It was over.

He knew.

"I'm ... oh ... Arnav-ji I'm ... I didn't want ... and he ..." her words faded into an incoherent mumble as she sobbed her fear and regret.

"I saw you, you were ..." he gave no indication that he'd heard her, "It's disgusting! You were in his ... his arms, and he ... he said ..."

She hiccuped, heart pounding, "If you heard then you know ..."

"That you asked him to leave my Di." his voice rose again, "You're his mistress, he's cheating on Di with you!"

"N-no," Khushi gasped, "Arnav-ji, no! You didn't hear ... you didn't hear anything else?"

"I didn't need to!" he shook her so hard her teeth seemed to rattle, "How could you? You betrayed us all. Di welcomed you with open arms, my family showers you with their love, and all this time ..."

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to quell the despair that rose within her, "You have to listen to me, I didn't ask him to leave Anjali-ji, I was just—"

"I saw you with my own eyes, Khushi. Your game is over. I'm exposing you both and your vulgar plans right now!"

He clamped a hand over her wrist, pressing against the wound he'd bandaged the night before. His eyes turned even colder when she winced in pain.

"You deserve this."

Khushi struggled against him as he dragged her towards the door, but he was unrelenting.

"Arnav-ji, please, I didn't want ..." she clawed at his arm, "I'd never betray Anjali-ji ..."

He froze. " _Don't you dare_ take her name. Not after all the despicable and vile things you've done."

"I haven't done anything! You don't understand ... Shyam-ji said—"

"— I understand _enough_!" Arnav-ji snarled as he pushed her roughly against the doors.

"He told you that he ... and you say you've done nothing?" he struck the glass next to her head, and she flinched away, "Tell me, Khushi, why was he telling you that his marriage is meaningless if you haven't done anything?"

"Because he tricked us. He came into our house as a paying guest and deceived us, saying he was unmarried. He forced an engagement when Babu-ji got sick, an engagement I broke off when I found out."

* * *

 _I hope you liked it! Please let me know what you think :)_

 _ **A friendly reminder that this story will NOT update to a schedule.** Please don't comment asking for more updates, it will only upset me at a time when things are very difficult._


	5. Chapter 2: Cataclysm

**Chapter 2: Cataclysm**

* * *

 **Khushi**

"Because he tricked us. He came into our house as a paying guest and deceived us, saying he was unmarried. He forced an engagement when Babu-ji got sick, an engagement I broke off when I found out."

Her words seemed to ring in the air in the cold silence that followed her confession. Arnav-ji had frozen, still crowding her against his bedroom door.

"You know we had a paying guest, you know his name was Shyam," she spoke quickly, glad that he was listening, "My fi-fiancé. He didn't come out of his room when you came to ask for Jiji's hand for Aakash-ji, remember?"

Arnav-ji blinked once, twice, "That's impossible!"

If anything, her confession seemed to have made him angrier. She cowered away as he leaned towards her.

"That's your defence?" he growled, "That he was your fiancé? That he _lived_ with you and you didn't know he was married?"

Her heart pounded as everything unravelled, "Arnav-ji—"

"—You're always here, Khushi. Do you really expect me to believe that you didn't know he was married to Di?"

He finally gave her room to breathe by stepping away, and her feet carried her further into the room even as a part of her screamed to escape.

"I met him in Lucknow," she brushed away her tears, "and he was always gone when I was here. Anjali-ji said he was on business—"

"— But he was really in Laxmi Nagar? With you?" he turned, eyes bright and shining and arms rigid at his sides. "So you admit that you are his mistress?"

Her heart seemed to break. "No! You have to believe me. He tricked us all."

Khushi jumped when he kicked over the small white table in the centre of his room, sending his laptop flying into a nearby wall. It shattered.

"I don't have to believe a fucking thing! I saw you with my own eyes. I heard you with my own ears."

She'd only seen him like this once before, so undone by rage that he had to give voice to it through violence. The memory of the way he'd calmed at her touch near the _dhaba_ had her reaching for him before she'd completely thought the action through.

"Don't you dare touch me," he caught her wrist, "I don't want your filth anywhere near me."

She couldn't breathe around the constriction in her chest. Everything hurt so much. Khushi opened her mouth but a sharp knock sounded at the door before she could say anything. She stepped away when he released her, wiping her tears on the back of her hand.

"Yes?"

Om Prakash-ji stepped inside, eyes lowered, "Arnav- _bhaiya_ , Anjali- _didi_ is waiting for you in her room. Everyone is there."

Arnav-ji dismissed his servant with a nod before turning to her. "Say nothing, or I will ensure your sister suffers as you and Shyam planned to make my Di suffer."

He strode away, leaving her frozen with indecision for a few minutes before she gathered herself.

 _He's entitled to this cruelty_ , she argued with herself as she hurried after him, _his world has just fallen apart._

But it was a bitter pill to swallow, to realise that whatever she'd seen in his eyes over past few days … and weeks and months … didn't extend to trusting her.

 _He doesn't believe me. Oh Devi Maiyya, what do I do? He won't even let me tell Anjali-ji._

It seemed impossible.

Arnav-ji was already settled at his sister's side, both of his hands clamped firmly around hers, when Khushi entered the room.

"Di, are you alright?" worry suffused his tone, "What's wrong?"

Anjali-ji sat on her bed, a bandage on her head and another on her wrist. Tears fell unchecked as she raised a hand to Arnav-ji's face.

"Chhote," she sobbed, "I can't believe … I …"

Panic unfurled in the pit of Khushi's tummy as she looked around the room.

 _Did she see us too?_

Her family stood next to the wall, Bua-ji's eyes narrowed as she looked at Arnav-ji and herself. Nani-ji stood at the bedside, Mami-ji and Mama-ji with her, and Aakash-ji sat at the foot of the bed. Shyam-ji sat on the bed as well, though Khushi tried her best to ignore him.

Her heart twisted as Arnav-ji sobbed again. "Di, what happened?"

"Chhote, the report."

Arnav-ji cast his eyes over the sheaf of papers she handed him before looking up in disbelief. "Di …?"

Khushi willed herself to remain where she was, though every cell in her body compelled her towards him, hating the way his voice cracked.

"Chhote, you're going to be a Mama."

Her heart stilled, her palms at once cold and clammy.

 _Oh Devi Maiyya._

She watched brother and sister embrace, Arnav-ji seeming lost for words. A hollow opened in her chest. Then she felt Shyam-ji's eyes on her, a creeping, crawling sensation that incited a shiver, and stepped towards the safety of Arnav-ji on instinct. The slight movement turned Anjali-ji's attention to her.

"Chhote will be a Mama, and Khushi-ji …"

Anjali-ji gave a short giggle, exchanging a glee-filled look with Nani-ji that everyone in the room noticed. Nanhe-ji blinked in confusion while Mami-ji gave an annoyed sniff. Aakash-ji's mouth fell open in surprise.

And Arnav-ji.

Arnav-ji's eyes burnt with rage when he turned to her, and she read what he was thinking as clearly as if he'd said the words out aloud.

 _I will not let you ruin my sister's happiness._

Khushi sucked in a trembling breath, resisting the urge to look away. Instead, she willed him to read the truth in her own eyes.

 _I would never hurt your sister, not knowingly. I love her, as I lo…_

But she couldn't complete the thought, not even in the privacy of her own mind, not when he'd rejected her touch moments ago.

"Khushi-ji," Nanhe-ji came to stand beside her, "You still haven't changed? Come on, the wedding ceremony is going to start soon!"

A burst of short, awkward laughter travelled around the room.

"Come, _Sanka Devi,_ " Bua-ji bustled to her side.

Her eyes found Arnav-ji as she was forcibly led away. He seemed made of stone.

 _Maybe_ , her desperate mind whispered, _maybe everything will be fine now. Shyam-ji will surely stay with Anjali-ji for the sake of their child._

She noted the way Shyam-ji cradled his smiling wife to his side with a kind of repulsed gladness. But then a slick horror uncurled within Khushi as he released Anjali-ji to stare apologetically up at _her_ as if he'd been caught doing something wrong.

She remembered the way he'd promised to leave Anjali-ji for her, _to forget his wife entirely_ , and felt vile.

And worse, when her eyes found Arnav-ji again, she realised that he'd seen everything.


	6. Chapter 3: Calamity

**Chapter 3: Calamity**

* * *

 **Khushi**

Bua-ji berated her on the short walk between Anjali-ji's room and the guest room, but Khushi's mind was hazed with confusion and panic. Everything was unravelling too fast and it was all she could do to hold on. She changed into the red and blue outfit she'd picked weeks ago, recalling with some bitterness that she'd chosen it because red was _his_ favourite colour.

Then she made to rush out the door, desperate to talk to Arnav-ji and make things right, but Bua-ji held her in place with a hand wrapped around her arm. Khushi winced as her aunt unknowingly pressed against the bruises that were beginning to form.

"I don't know if you need to be told," Bua-ji began, "but you must be careful. Any misstep, however small, and the gossip and rumour will destroy us all. Your father has too much trust in you, I fear, but I will not see you squander away our honour. Do you understand?"

She blinked in confusion for a few moments before registering exactly what Bua-ji was saying. They had always met whenever they'd wished, sometimes in secret and sometimes in full view of their families, but the last few days had made them especially careless. Arnav-ji had danced on stage with her, had driven all over Laxmi Nagar looking for her, had sat on her sickbed with all the _haq_ of a husband or lover, and the only truly surprising thing was that her family hadn't said anything sooner.

"I know," Khushi assured her aunt, "You can trust me to do what is right."

She gathered up her skirt and ran when Bua-ji released her.

But Arnav-ji's room was empty, as was his sister's, and he wasn't amongst the guests milling downstairs as they waited for the ceremony to begin. Khushi distractedly wheeled her father to the altar at her mother's request, her restless eyes seeking _his_ tall figure wrapped in black.

Arnav-ji strode through the side door and into the main room in the sudden hush that accompanied the priest's announcement that it was time. Her heart raced as she ventured towards him, but he only narrowed his eyes at her before helping his sister to her seat. His family surrounded him. Then she was distracted by Jiji's arrival at the top of the stairs, resplendent in red and escorted by their mother and aunt. She gripped her father's shoulder, grinning as her heart soared at the sight.

A hand suddenly wrapped around her wrist, pressing against the small bandage she'd applied to her wound. She gasped as she was pulled behind a pillar, and then, as everyone watched the women slowly make their way to the altar, was dragged to the poolside. Arnav-ji flung her away as soon as the glass doors slid shut. He spoke before Khushi caught her breath.

"How much do you love your sister?"

Khushi blinked at him. He seemed as blank and immutable as the concrete wall he stared at.

He continued, "You're willing to do anything for her. Right?"

"Yes."

"Then you have to do something for your sister tonight."

"What?" she whispered, dread pooling in her belly.

As much as his fury had scared her, his calm now terrified her. It seemed too controlled, too calculated.

"Di is pregnant. I want you to leave."

He finally turned to her, and the pain in his eyes took her breath away.

"Leave?" she asked.

"Leave tonight. I'll give you as much money as you want. Leave, and never come back."

"No!"

"I won't let you hurt Di, be sure of that. I will not allow you to destroy two lives. Leave tonight, make your excuses and never come back. I'll give you whatever you want."

"I don't want—"

"—I know _exactly_ what you want, but I'll never let you have it. I'll destroy Shyam when the time comes, but I cannot tolerate any threat to my sister's happiness, especially not when she's with child."

"I should never have tried to confide in you," she whispered, "If you truly believe me capable of these disgusting things, if you think so lowly of me, then you … you don't deserve …"

She started to walk away, sobbing, but he used her arm to twist her around until she faced him again. His sudden menace shocked her into stillness.

"Shut up!" he snarled, "Decide. Now."

She gasped in pain as he twisted her arm behind her when she didn't answer quickly enough, "Yes, or no?"

"My sister is here," she tried to reason through tears, "and my family."

"You didn't care about my sister when you were sleeping with her husband."

Nausea churned in her tummy, "Arnav-ji, I haven't … I swear …"

 _I've never betrayed you, or your sister. Never._

He released her suddenly.

"Look over there," he indicated through the glass doors, where Jiji and Aakash-ji stood ready to exchange garlands, "Aakash won't begin the ceremony until I'm standing next to him."

Khushi watched as both families looked around, clearly searching for the two of them. She closed her eyes as a black tide of despair threatened to overwhelm her.

"All I have to do is stand here, and your sister will remain unmarried for a second time."

The threat cut into her soul.

"If you believe this," her voice shook, "If you believe that Shyam-ji and I … then why pay me to leave? How do you know that he won't follow?"

"Because I'll offer him the same deal as I've offered you; anything he wants, as long as he stays with my sister for the next six months."

"And you know that he'll accept?"

"On the terrace, that man all but admitted that he married my sister for money. He'll stay as long as he's well compensated."

Arnav-ji turned to her with a sneer, "What did you think, that he loves you, that he would choose you over the Raizada fortune? You two deserve each other."

 _No, I thought that you loved me, and that you would choose to trust me._

"This is unreasonable," Khushi argued, "This is not a solution. If you would just listen then I could …"

"There is no other solution! The only way I would allow you to remain in Delhi is if I could watch your every move, if you lived under this very roof."

"I …"

"I would never let you near him if you lived here," he interjected, misunderstanding what she'd been about to say, "And I won't tolerate your presence in the same house as my sister."

Taking deep breaths, Khushi tried to think through her options, but there only two impossible choices. To leave and condemn her sister to unimaginable torment at that snake's hands, or to stay and shame her family in unimaginable ways.

Unless …

"I will stay, in this house, under this roof, but only if you marry me."


	7. Chapter 4: Casualty

**Chapter 4: Casualty**

* * *

 **Khushi**

"I will stay, in this house, under this roof, but only if you marry me."

"What utter fucking nonsense."

It seemed that not even the great ASR had expected the proposition.

Or proposal, as it were.

Khushi tried to explain, "This way I can stay with Jiji and you can make sure that I don't hurt Anjali-ji."

 _And you can protect us both from Shyam-ji._

"What the hell are you saying?"

"Come to the house tomorrow and ask for my hand. They'll arrange it all quickly, especially if you tell Anjali-ji that you want it done as soon as possible."

"Are you out of your mind?" Arnav-ji pushed her into a wall, teeth gritted as his careful control seemed to slip away, "What is this? A distraction? A way to keep me occupied so you and Shyam can plan to run away?"

"No!" she took a deep breath, "Look, you said that the only way I can remain here is if I live in this house. I am agreeing, but with this one condition."

He searched her eyes, and whatever he found there made him step away. "You're serious."

Khushi nodded, "Don't you see? Shyam-ji will torment Jiji if I disappear, he'll make her life a living Hell. I can't leave."

"And if you marry someone else?"

"He'll see that I don't want … That I ch-chose someone e-else."

"That you chose me?"

Arnav-ji closed his eyes but not before she saw the conflict that shone there. Her heart dared to hope as he took three deep breaths. His calm returned.

"Not tomorrow. If we do this, we do it tonight."

"But …"

He grabbed her wrist, twisting her so she could see the altar inside. She hissed in pain as he spoke. "Either you're innocent and you'll do anything to protect your sister, or you're trying to buy time so you can destroy Di. Choose. Now."

"No. I can't … not like this."

"Then leave. I'll write you a blank cheque."

He released her to stride away.

The world seemed to reduce to just this moment, this poolside decorated with fairy lights and his retreating figure. Her heart twisted in agony. She forced her mind to play it out, to consider leaving her sister at Shyam-ji's mercy. Aakash-ji would protect her, and Arnav-ji would eventually destroy the hold Shyam-ji had over Anjali-ji. But her heart rebelled, refusing to let her sister come to harm because of her own inability to tell the truth all those months ago.

"Wait."

He stopped. Turned. Returned to her side, expression unreadable.

Khushi made the impossible choice, "Yes. I'll marry you tonight."

The words seemed to sap the little strength that remained in her body. She lost the battle against her tears, sobbing into her hands as he watched, seemingly unaffected. Then she swayed, her knees buckling unexpectedly, but caught herself on the small table beside her.

When she looked up, Arnav-ji was running a hand through his hair, "They're still waiting."

She nodded, "I'm ready."

Instead of leading the way as she'd expected, he proffered a handkerchief, "Tidy yourself up, it will look bad enough when we return without your tears."

Khushi complied, wary of this unexpected kindness. He nodded his approval when she looked at him expectantly and then pocketed the cloth, inclining his head towards the doors. She felt his gaze burn into her every step of the way.

Bua-ji was the first to notice when she arrived at the top of the stairs, "Oh, there she is! Khushi! Where were you? We were all …"

She trailed away, her gaze shifting, and Khushi guessed that Arnav-ji had appeared behind her. The silence of the crowd changed subtly from curious and concerned to scandalised. Whispers erupted as they crossed the room. Khushi avoided her father's eyes, dreading what she would read there.

"Khushi-ji!" Nanhe-ji pointed his video camera in their direction, "And Nannav! Where have you two been?"

"You haven't started?" she tried to lighten the atmosphere with a stretch of her lips.

"Aakash was waiting for Nannav," her friend explained, "We can start now that you two are here."

"Yes," Nani-ji forced a smile at the priest, "Let's begin."

Jiji and Aakash-ji exchanged garlands before taking their places at the altar, but Khushi's eyes were constantly drawn to the tall figure beside them. He stared back. The ceremony passed in a blur. Khushi tried to smile for her sister, but the implications of her decision churned in her mind. Her eyes found Arnav-ji as _his_ brother and _her_ sister took their vows, and again as he placed his marks on her — a _mangalsutra_ about her neck and _sindoor_ in her hair. She watched as they were pronounced husband and wife and started to take blessings from both their families.

"I warned you," Bua-ji had approached unnoticed, "What were the two of you doing?"

"Nothing," Khushi tried to smile, "Just a few last minute preparations."

The interrogation stalled as Jiji and Jija-ji approached, touching Bua-ji's feet and receiving her blessings before hugging her. Then Jiji was in her arms, sobbing as they embraced.

"Khushi …"

"Jiji …"

She wept, the knowledge that she was about to break her sister's heart tearing her own to shreds.

"Khushi."

Arnav-ji had appeared beside her. Jiji straightened with a sniffle and bowed in tandem with Aakash-ji to receive blessings from her _jeth-ji_.

"What the—?" Arnav-ji stepped backwards so that for a moment it seemed that he stood next to her and Aakash-ji and Jiji had bowed to them both.

"Chhote," Nani-ji smiled, "You cannot escape this. They need your blessings."

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like _absurd_ before pulling his brother up and gathering him in an embrace, "Congratulations, Aakash. Be good to her."

"Yes, Bhai."

Khushi blinked back tears as Arnav-ji nodded to Jiji.

"Here, _Sanka Devi_ , take this," Bua-ji pressed a platter into her hands before turning to Arnav-ji, "Arnav- _babua_ , that needs to go into the temple, help her."

Given permission to leave, Khushi stepped forward to offer the platter, eyes lowered. His hands closed over hers as he took it, and her eyes flew up to his as she was instantly transported to another time when he'd done much the same thing. He left the platter on a low table instead of taking it to the temple area and gestured towards the front door when they were out of sight. Khushi followed, noting that he slowed his pace enough to allow her to overtake him.

His car was ready, parked near the door, and she climbed inside without hesitation. Their silence was broken by the shrill ring of his phone. Arnav-ji tapped the Bluetooth device at his ear before starting the car.

"Yeah? …. Yes, we've left" his eyes flicked over to her as he drove, "Good, make sure everything is ready … Yes."

He ended the call, returning them to silence. Khushi watched the familiar landmarks rush by, her pulse quickening with every minute that brought them closer to the temple. Arnav-ji didn't look at her again until he'd parked the car inside the temple grounds.

When he spoke, his tone was low, soft, saturated with some emotion she couldn't identify, "You understand that this is not real?"


	8. Chapter 5: Chaos

**Chapter 5: Chaos**

* * *

 **Khushi**

"You understand that this is not real?"

Khushi stared up at the brilliant white structure in front of them, "Yes."

 _A loveless marriage. Devi Maiyya, please give me strength._

"Do you really?" he pressed, "You asked to live in Shantivan as my wife. It will be legally binding. But there is no future, and after the baby is born …"

The tiny flame of hope still alive inside her spluttered, and then died.

 _There is no future._

"I understand," her voice was small and frail.

He opened his door and rounded the car to help with hers. When he offered his hand, she slid her palm against his with trepidation, and then they climbed the temple stairs together like that. Hand in hand.

Two men met them at the top, both clad in suits and one carrying a slim briefcase.

"Sir," the younger one stepped forward, "I have the papers."

Arnav-ji signed the proffered documents after reading them carefully, and it wasn't long before the man stood in front of her.

"Aman Mathur," he introduced himself.

"Kh-Khushi … Khushi Kumari G-Gupta."

Aman-ji nodded as he handed her a document and pen, and cleared his throat when she hesitated.

"Papers," he explained softly, "to say that you will not ask for any part of the estate or company in the case of a divorce."

Khushi blinked, some part of her turning to ash as she realised what was happening.

The other man stepped up, "It's a standard agreement. The law says that you would be entitled to alimony in the case of a divorce. By signing these papers you forfeit that right."

She guessed that this was the lawyer. Khushi looked up to find that Arnav-ji was staring unseeing into the holy fire.

 _He doesn't even care._

This proof of the depth of his mistrust broke something inside her. She signed the papers, hardly able to bring them into focus because of the tears that blurred her vision.

In the end, the ceremony was a grim parody of the one they'd just witnessed. He placed a simple necklace about her neck without fanfare, though she closed her eyes as she felt her entire future change. She sobbed, the reality of the moment finally slamming into her when he pinched _sindoor_ between his fingers. He leaned forward to place it into the part of her hair, and then it was done.

Feeling weak, Khushi swayed with her face buried in her hands, trying in vain to stem her tears.

"Aman," Arnav-ji called.

She looked up as the other man approached, noting that he seemed unfazed by what he'd seen. But then she saw the apology in his eyes when their eyes met.

"Ma'am," he spoke gently, "the marriage papers."

These were signed with quick efficiency, first by herself and Arnav-ji, and then their witnesses.

"Find an officiator," Arnav-ji gave brisk instructions, "Back-date whatever needs to be backdated. Pay whatever you need to, but I want it handled by the end of this week. And remember, it _must_ be legally sound. No one should be able to cast doubts on its validity."

The two men left them standing yards apart inside the temple.

"What now?" she asked, feeling utterly drained.

He slipped a floral wreath about his neck before handing her a matching one.

"We go home."

The silence inside his car rang so loudly that Khushi's ears throbbed. She trembled, thinking of what awaited them, and jumped when the low beep of his phone sliced the air.

Arnav-ji glanced at the screen, "Di is looking for us."

Then they stood at his front door, her fingers clenched into the soft fabric of her _dupatta_. She startled when he reached across to take her hand in his, a gesture she might have interpreted as reassurance if she didn't know better, and panic settled in when he opened the door. It was thick in her veins even though the plan and decision had both been hers. She covered his hand with her own, trying to stop him, but he seemed immune to her struggles as he pulled her into the main room.

The guests had left. Jiji and Jija-ji sat surrounded by immediate family, playing the games expected of newlyweds on their wedding night.

Anjali-ji was the first to notice their silent arrival, the light leaving her eyes and her mouth falling open as she tracked their progress. Nanhe-ji pointed his video camera in their direction and then lowered it with a gasp. Bua-ji glanced up, at first not registering what she saw, and then stood with a cry of outrage.

Khushi shook.

It was worse than she'd imagined. Their families asked questions they couldn't answer, not with the health of Anjali-ji and her unborn child at stake. But Khushi wondered if this was any better, whether seeing the brother she loved betray her and her ideals had achieved what they'd tried to avoid in any case.

Seeing all her worries come to fruition, Bua-ji shook her, demanding explanations and becoming ever more frustrated with her silence.

There was chaos, and questions, and tears.

She was already drained when Amma stepped up, already too tired and too overwrought to do anything but stand next to her newly minted husband and weep, and so was caught completely by surprise by the slap. Khushi stumbled into Arnav-ji, cheek stinging and ears ringing, and felt him angle himself to catch her. When she looked up, a part of her hating that he'd seen this, his rage-filled gaze was locked on Amma.

And again, her naive heart dared to hope.

Arnav-ji's facade of calm indifference only cracked when Anjali-ji began asking questions. Khushi watched him play the role of villain, her heart twisting with pain and regret.

"Chhote, how could you do this? To me? To us?"

"Di, we're married. It's done."

It was then, as Anjali-ji wept and Aakash-ji gazed at them in confusion, as Nani-ji raged her disappointment and Jiji sobbed into her _dupatta_ , that Arnav-ji took her hand. His fingers brushed hers almost questioningly before gripping tightly. Khushi jumped in shock, her eyes finding his face almost instantly, and saw that he wasn't looking at her at all.

He was staring at Shyam-ji, who seemed to shake with rage at the sight.

 _"And if you marry someone else?"_

 _"He'll see that I don't want … That I ch-chose someone e-else."_

 _"That you chose me?"_

Taking a shuddering breath, Khushi curled her fingers with his, her mouth set in grim determination as she stared defiantly at Shyam-ji.

This man was her choice, and always would be, whether he wanted her or not.


	9. Chapter 6: Caged

**Chapter 6: Caged**

* * *

 **Khushi**

Later that night Khushi stood to the side as her mother and aunt bid a tearful and apologetic farewell to her new family. Arnav-ji had long since locked himself in his bedroom, refusing to speak to anyone, even his sister.

"Take care of yourself," Amma cried as she embraced Jiji.

"My only wish for you," Bua-ji took her turn, "is that you prove to be the world's best daughter and this family's best _bahu_."

It shouldn't have hurt, not after everything else, but Khushi felt something inside her splinter at the insinuation that she'd failed as _both_ a daughter and daughter-in-law.

"Respect the traditions and ways of this household," Bua-ji continued, "and prize its honour above all."

When Amma wheeled Babu-ji away, not even stopping to allow a proper goodbye, Khushi ran after them. "Amma ... Bua-ji ... Babu-ji!"

They didn't stop.

"Amma! Bua-ji!"

Her mother turned, "Don't call me Amma! Because of you, today we can't even _look_ at Payaliya's in-law's!"

Khushi ran to her father's side, kneeling in front of his wheelchair, "Babu-ji."

He nodded tearfully, using his meagre strength to place a hand over hers in a gesture of comfort. But the moment was cut short when Amma called the driver to help them.

"Are you happy now?" Bua-ji rounded on her when Amma and Babu-ji were settled in the car, "You came into lives and brought us only pain. Today, Khushi, you've proven that you aren't my blood. You aren't Shashi and Garima's child. If you'd been my niece, _my true niece_ , then you wouldn't have this to my _Payaliya_. What a reward you've given us for taking in an orphan into our home and treating her as our own."

The car drove away before she was able to shake herself out of her shocked stupor. She made her way back to the house on exhausted feet, stumbling as the horrors of the night replayed in her mind.

 _"I saw. I saw you on the terrace."_

 _"Papers, to say that you will not ask for any part of the estate or company in the case of a divorce."_

 _"Today, Khushi, you've proven that you aren't my blood. You aren't Shashi and Garima's child."_

The main room was empty except for a small figure wrapped in red and jewels.

"Khushi!" Jiji crossed the room, "What's happening? You didn't tell anyone else, but you'll tell your Jiji, right? What were you thinking, Khushi? Why did you do this?"

 _"How much do you love your sister?"_

 _"All I have to do is stand here, and your sister will remain unmarried for a second time."_

"Don't you have anything to say, Khushi?" Jiji shook her.

"Nothing will change, Jiji, no matter what I say or do. What's done is done."

 _"You understand that this is not real?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"But there is no future, and after the baby is born ..."_

 _"I understand."_

"Did you see how our family was shamed tonight? No. Not _our_ family, because you never accepted them as yours!"

"Jiji ..." Khushi reached for her sister, but her hand was flung away.

"You have nothing to say? Well, I have something to say. From the day Amma and Babu-ji brought you into our home I considered you a sister. I thought you hid nothing from me, that you shared every happiness, every misery with me. But now I see that you never accepted me as your sister."

The words seemed to ring, echoing off the marble floors and chandeliers of his home as Jiji stormed away. Khushi collapsed onto her knees, howling her misery as the flowers and lights and decorations mocked her. She was an unwanted daughter, an unwanted bride, an unwanted sister.

It was a long time before she gathered the courage to stand and make her way to upstairs, to set foot in the bedroom that seemed achingly familiar and utterly foreign at the same time. She shut the door before kneeling next to where he hunched on his sofa. Her husband made no effort to hide his tears.

"I was eight years old when my mother and father died," she began, "Babu-ji, Amma, and Bua-ji took me in and gave me a place in their home. And today, today they said that I'm no longer their daughter, that my home is no longer mine. Today I'm an orphan again, Arnav-ji."

Arnav-ji lifted his head as she continued, "I've been orphaned again because of what we did today. I asked you to wait ... I tried to tell you ... but you wouldn't listen. And now ..."

"You understand, don't you, why it had to be this way?" his voice seemed to crack.

To her surprise, she did. She understood that he was hurt. She understood his instinct to do anything and _everything_ to protect his sister and her unborn child. She empathised with his fear that Shyam-ji would do something unforgivable. Some part of her even recognised his generosity in giving her _sindoor_ and a _mangalsutra_ when the legal documents would have sufficed. He'd given her the marriage she'd asked for.

But it still hurt that he didn't trust her, that everything they'd endured wasn't proof enough of her loyalty.

Or her love.

"Will you do something for me?" she answered his question with one of her own.

"I owe you nothing."

"Will you let me prove it to you?"

"Prove what?"

"That I'm innocent. Promise me that you'll listen. That you'll at least consider what I've said."

Arnav-ji stood, heading to the door, "I've done enough for you. I'm allowing my sister's rival to live in my house, _as my wife_."

"One minute, Mr Arnav Singh Raizada!" Khushi scrambled up, placing herself between him and the door. She stood with her back pressed against it. "Perhaps discussions end when you leave in your office, but today I need an answer. I won't let you leave without promising me! I married you, tonight, just like you asked. You _have_ to do this for me!"

"Khushi, I'm warning you ..." he tried to step around her.

When that proved ineffectual, he decided to exit through the poolside. She stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, fingers twisted into the fabric of his waistcoat, "Just one chance, that's all I'm asking for."

"I don't think it's necessary to listen to anything you have to say."

He flung her arm away before disappearing into the black night, and she was left bereft and cold and alone.

The long and bitter hours trickled by slowly as she waited for him to return, kneeling against his green sofa. Exhausted and struggling to keep her eyes open, Khushi pillowed her head on the jacket he'd carelessly discarded sometime in the night and allowed the familiar scent of him to sooth her slumber.


	10. Interlude: Anguish

**Interlude 1: Anguish**

* * *

 **Arnav**

The knowledge that she could dismantle his defences with just a few words terrified him.

 _"I've been orphaned again because of what we did today. I asked you to wait ... I tried to tell you ... but you wouldn't listen. And now ..."_

He still wasn't sure how he'd gotten here, married to the woman who threatened his sister, but he knew it had a lot to do with what she'd said at the poolside.

 _"He'll see that I don't want ... That I ch-chose someone e-else."_

This was his weakness, his undoing, concrete proof that he was a despicable example of 'brother', because he still loved Khushi Kumari Gupta and yearned for a reality where she loved him too. He wanted to believe her so desperately that it threatened to overwhelm him. And it was this very desperation that made him wary — he was acutely aware that he was no longer capable of rational thought where she was concerned.

His headlights revealed the shadow of a man on the road. Arnav swerved the car around, brakes squealing, and came to a stop just shy of the figure.

Shyam Manohar Jha.

A part of Arnav wanted to destroy this man, to rip him to pieces with his bare hands for daring to hurt his sister, for daring to deceive his family. For daring to touch Khushi. He swallowed down his nausea as he alighted from the car.

" _Saale-Sahib_ ," Shyam greeted, "Why have you called me out here? After everything you've done today I should be with Rani Sah—"

"—Shut up! You can drop the act, I know everything."

"You know?" Shyam looked away, "Wh-what do you know, _Saale-S-Sahib_?"

"I saw you. I saw you with Khushi on the terrace."

The blood seemed to drain away from Shyam's face. He eventually managed a stammer.

"Y-you ... s-saw ... You ... you must be m-mistaken ..."

Arnav inhaled sharply, "I am _not_ mistaken. I saw you. I heard everything."

Shyam's features slipped into a mask of cruelty. Malice shone in his eyes.

"Then there's nothing ... nothing I can do. I can't deny what you saw ... and I don't even _want_ to, _Saale-Sahib_."

And then, inexplicably, his brother-in-law grinned. The chains holding back Arnav's rage snapped, and Shyam's collar was in his fists before he was aware of making the decision to move.

"How dare you! How could you do this to my Di? She treats you like her God and you've betrayed her! You cheated on her!"

The other man's shoulders shook as he laughed.

"I'm not going to spare you!" Arnav shook him, "You'll have to pay for what you've done! I won't let you go so easily!"

"So you married her," Shyam struggled to speak between chuckles, "You married her knowing that she loves me?"

 _"I only want you, Khushi-ji. I don't accept Rani Sahiba as my wife. Believe me, Khushi-ji, I love only you, and I love you a lot."_

His hands slipped from Shyam's collar with a tremble, "This is not about Khushi Kumari Gupta."

"Oh but it is," Shyam sneered, "What did you think, _Arnav_? That she wanted you? The dancing, the earring, that kiss by the poolside? Did you think it was real?"

 _"If that relationship holds no significance for you, then why don't you break your marriage? Leave Anjali-ji."_

A weight settled on his chest, making it impossible to draw breath. The sharp claws of betrayal slashed at his insides. He channelled it all into anger, relishing the way it sharpened his focus and lessened the bitter ache of their combined deception. His fist, careening towards the Shyam's face, froze at his next words.

"It was never real. It was _all_ a distraction."

Shyam's laughter seemed to echo in his ears. Arnav's vision turned black and then red.

"You forced her to do it," Shyam continued, "You must have. Otherwise she never would've married you!"

 _"He'll see that I don't want ... That I ch-chose someone e-else."_

Arnav grit his teeth, "Think whatever you want, but the truth is that I married her. She came to me. She told me everything. She's made her choice."

 _This is my one chance. I have to play the charade so convincingly that Shyam is fooled into thinking Khushi is no longer interested._

Shyam's laughter cut off abruptly.

"And now you can't do anything," Arnav continued, "If Di wasn't pregnant then I would've already thrown you out of her life for good!"

It was the smallest of victories to make Shyam believe that Khushi had truly chosen him. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe it. To believe that she'd chosen him, _that she wanted him_ , that what he'd seen in her eyes over the last few weeks and months hadn't been a lie.

The fantasy, weak as it was, gave him strength.

"But I'm giving you a chance, your first and last chance," he said, "Make peace with your circumstances. Learn to be happy with Di and her child. It would be for the best."

And he should have stopped, should have walked away, but the part of him that needed to protect her wouldn't allow it. Some part of him still wanted her to be innocent, for her truth to be the only truth, implausible and impossible though it was.

"And yes, _Jija-ji_ ", Arnav relished the discomfort etched into Shyam's features, "Khushi is my wife. Don't try to hang around her. Don't even dare."

 _She doesn't want you._

 _She chose me._

Shyam's enraged glare followed him as he settled back into the car, and for the thousandth time this night Arnav asked himself how they could have all been so deceived.

 _Why didn't I see it sooner? Di worships him. Nani loves him. And Aakash ..._

Arnav baulked at the thought of confiding in the brother whose marriage was built on a bedrock of lies and deceit.

 _"I just want to know whether you want to spend the rest of your life with this girl. You won't regret it later?"_

 _"No, Bhai. Never."_

His heart shied away, unwilling to consider marring Aakash's happiness.

 _How will I tell Aakash that his wife's sister ... even if Khushi is innocent, his wife and in-laws have hidden the truth from him. From all of us._

Unwilling to return home, to face the sister who threatened to make him weak, to look at the wife who threatened to destroy him, he drove to the sanctuary of the farmhouse. It was his mother's childhood home, the home Nana had built after his marriage to Nani, and though the family had moved away when he'd built Shantivan, Arnav kept the house in pristine condition. He tended to the extensive gardens himself, carefully planting and maintaining it in his mother's memory.

 _Mamma._

He let himself in through a side door, pausing on the path to stroke the petals of a red rose, and made straight for the bedroom that'd once been his. He lay diagonally across the bed, his mind still awhirl with the chaos of the night.

 _"He came into our house as a paying guest and deceived us, saying he was unmarried."_

 _"Chhote will be a Mama, and Khushi-ji ..."_

 _"I will stay, in this house, under this roof, but only if you marry me."_

 _"He'll see that I don't want ... That I ch-chose someone e-else."_

 _"Yes. I'll marry you tonight."_

Arnav turned over with a sigh. When she'd stumbled with the weight of her decision at the poolside he'd instinctively reached to steady her, and had only managed to change the gesture into something else in the very last moment. Then he'd been weakened yet again when she'd wept with her sister, his feet carrying him to her side without permission.

 _Love is destruction_ , he reminded himself.

 _"You understand that this is not real?"_

Even her stoic acceptance of the arrangement had cut through him. Some part of him had hoped for tears or a lecture on the sanctity of marriage. His resolve had been further shaken by the tremble of her hand in his as they'd climbed the temple steps, her quiet sobs eating away at his anger and determination. And so he'd stood to the side, gathering courage and strength as she'd signed the prenuptial papers, knowing that one tear-filled look would be all it took for his surrender.

It felt real. Something about giving her the marks of marriage, the _mangalsutra_ and _sindoor_ that were so significant to her, had cemented the reality of what they'd done. And it _was_ real, whatever he'd told her at the temple. How could it not be, when every fibre of his being wished that it meant as much to her as it did to him?

 _ _"I've been orphaned again because of what we did today._ "_

Arnav grit his teeth against the memory, but another memory rose to the forefront of his mind.

 _Di's smile as she awaited her groom, her shy smile as he teased her, a gunshot, his mother's prone form in front of him. Then another gunshot. The shrouded bodies of both his parents in front of him as Di wept, still dressed as a bride._

"Fuck."

He rose out of bed and padded to the adjacent bathroom, where he splashed water on his face. Then he stared at his reflection in the mirror.

 _I'm sorry Mamma. I didn't protect Di like you asked me to._

 _But I promise you that I'll make this better._

 _I'll fix everything._


	11. Chapter 7: Consequences

**Chapter 7: Consequences**

* * *

 **Khushi**

The first thing Khushi noticed when she awoke was that Arnav-j hadn't returned in the night — his bed remained untouched. The second was that she was running late for the morning _puja_. She stood, twisting her hands together as her mind ticked over, and was disturbed by a knock.

One of the kitchen ladies stood at the door, a bundle in her hands, "Forgive the intrusion, _bhabhi_ , but the other ladies and I have prepared this. You have always been kind to us, and we … we thought you could use these."

"Thank you."

Khushi accepted the bundle with a smile and closed the door behind her before settling on Arnav-ji's sofa. The bundle contained a toothbrush and soap, a hairbrush, and a tiny container of _sindoor_. Blinking back tears, she used his bathroom to complete her meagre ablutions before rushing downstairs, though her efforts seemed in vain. She didn't know what was worse — that no one defended her when Mami-ji made her barbed comments, or that Jiji was insulted alongside her.

 _Perhaps I should have stayed away. It might have been better for everyone._

She was distracted from her melancholy when talk turned to Nani-ji's conspicuous absence. The revelation that she hadn't been seen all morning had Khushi rushing upstairs with everyone else.

"Khushi-ji, I have to speak to you," Shyam-ji intercepted her.

She tried to step around him without acknowledging his words, but he spoke again, glancing upstairs to ensure they went unnoticed.

"Please Khushi-ji. Just tell me once, just one time, why? Why did you do this to me? You betrayed my love and my trust in an instant."

He chased after her when she tried to escape, and it seemed better to stay rather than attract undue attention. He was her Jija-ji, after all, and refusing to speak to him would raise questions.

"He forced you to do this, didn't he? Khushi-ji, I promise you that I will not spare him."

Her skin crawled, her revulsion a physical thing that made her want to retch. The _mangalsutra_ about her neck seemed to burn. The front door opened before she should answer to reveal Arnav-ji, still in the clothes from last night. The sight of him gave her strength.

"You tricked us!" she hissed to Shyam-ji, trying to keep her words from carrying upstairs, "You betrayed Anjali-ji! You disgust me!"

Arnav-ji came to stand next to her, his entire form rigid with anger as he spoke to Shyam-ji, "I warn–"

A loud banging began at that moment, drawing their attention upstairs. Khushi turned to her husband, "Nani-ji. She hasn't come out of her room."

Arnav-ji ran, taking the stairs two at a time, and she followed as quickly as she could. They found the family milling around the door.

"Chhote, Nani-ji won't open the door!" Anjali-ji explained tearfully.

"This is all because of this _Phati Sari_ and her sister, _Khoon Bhari Taang_!"

Khushi's heart wrenched as Aakash-ji and Arnav-ji broke down the door, but as everyone rushed inside she found that she couldn't follow. It was a private moment for the family, and she was acutely aware that she was _not_ family — she was not a wife, not a sister, and not a _bahu_. She stood just outside the room instead, feeling utterly wretched. She rushed to prepare a glass of water when Anjali-ji mentioned Nani-ji's high temperature, glad for the reprieve from Shyam-ji's filthy stare, busied herself with the copper vessel. Khushi froze when Jiji reached for the glass without meeting her eyes, and handed it over after a short hesitation.

 _Jiji is the real_ bahu, she reminded herself, _the bride to who came into this home with the proper permissions and blessings. All I've done is ruin her standing within her new household._

She might have remained in the corner, silently drowning in her misery, had Anjali-ji not refused her brother's offer to call the doctor.

"Call the doctor, Aakash. Chhote need not trouble himself."

Khushi inched towards her husband as Anjali-ji stood.

"This is all your fault, Chhote. You wanted to get married, so you just got up and married someone? Neither you nor Khushi-ji will tell us why you made this decision. Maybe the two of you are unaware of how much this has hurt us!"

Arnav-ji looked away, his eyes finding Shyam-ji, and Khushi trembled to see the rage that shone there even though it wasn't directed at her. She swallowed hard, taking the final few steps so she was standing next to him.

 _I choose you. Always you._

"Last night …" Nani-ji spoke for the first time since they'd all entered the room, "Last night Chhote proved that he's his father's son."

The words seemed to echo in the room — Anjali-ji broke down and even Mami-ji seemed stunned at the declaration. Arnav-ji left the room without another word, leaving Khushi to wonder what secrets lay buried in the past, that they could hurt one of the strongest men she knew so much.

#######

"Thank you, Doctor- _Sahib_."

Khushi closed the door behind the man before rushing upstairs. Arnav-ji would want to know that the doctor had seen Nani-ji and had given her some medication. But when she didn't find him in his bedroom or by his poolside, she ventured to the study, hoping he hadn't left the house without her noticing.

 _Maybe the servants will know where he is._

She paused, overhearing a voice in Anjali-ji's room.

"Did you see Mamma, did you see what … what our Chhote did to us?"

"Di! How long will this drama last?"

She guessed that Arnav-ji had entered the room using the poolside entrance.

"How dare you!" Anjali-ji sounded outraged, "After all this, you're saying this is a dra—"

"—I'm simply saying that the faster you all accept this, the easier it will be."

"This act of yours is unforgivable!"

"Di, I accept my mistake. But all of you have to accept that I've married Khushi. This fact won't change because of your anger or your refusal to accept it."

Peeking inside, Khushi saw that the two siblings faced one another in the middle of the room. She couldn't see Arnav-ji's face, but Anjali-ji was crying as she held his arm.

"You married Khushi-ji without permission, without even telling us! You flouted tradition and disrespected our family!"

"Di, if you can't accept this then … then Khushi and I will leave this house."

Khushi gasped at the ultimatum, wondering yet again whether this ill-thought act of theirs had brought more hurt to the family Shyam-ji ever could. So great was her inattention that she was caught by surprise when Arnav-ji appeared in the doorway. He paused on seeing her standing there.

"Don't worry," he mumbled, "I haven't forgotten our agreement. You stay where your sister is."

Guilt churned within her when she realised that she hadn't thought of that at all. Instead, her traitorous heart had hoped that, away from Shyam-ji and the constant reminders of her imagined betrayal, he might be more open to hearing her out.

Khushi nodded, hoping her thoughts weren't etched clearly on her face, and watched as he walked away.

 _If he doesn't intend to leave Shantivan, then what game is he playing now?_


	12. Chapter 8: Collar

**Chapter 8: Collar**

* * *

 **Khushi**

"Khushi-ji ... I mean, Khushi- _bhabhi_ , Anjali- _didi_ has called everyone into the hall."

She followed Om Prakash-ji after giving Lakshmi-ji a final pat, trying to swallow down her worry for Nani-ji. Everyone was already downstairs when she arrived, arranged on the plush sofas and focussed attentively on Anjali-ji.

"It's good that you've arrived, Khushi-ji," she greeted, "Now we can begin."

Khushi stood behind the seat her husband had chosen, noting that he'd showered and changed since she'd last seen him. She toyed with her _dupatta_ as Anjali-ji approached her.

"Khushi-ji, you will not be accepted as this household's daughter-in-law ..."

The world seemed to shrink. Suddenly dizzy, Khushi twisted her fingers into the fabric of the sofa as Arnav-ji stood.

He moved in front of her and faced his sister, "Fine, if this is what you—"

"—I'm not finished Chhote," Anjali-ji's tone was steel, "Don't interrupt, this is not your office but your home."

Khushi trembled, hating that she'd come between her husband and the most important person in his life.

"Khushi-ji, you can't become the Raizada family's _bahu_ ," Anjali-ji started again, "until you complete the _Griha Pravesh_ and all the post-wedding customs."

Hope, dim and fickle though it was, surged with her.

 _Maybe I can still find a place here, maybe this can be my home too, even if for a short while._

Arnav-ji's eyes found hers in the shocked silence, but she was distracted by Anjali-ji before she could decipher the storm in his eyes.

"Change into this bridal outfit," his sister instructed, "and then we'll observe all the rituals."

Khushi ran her fingers over the soft fabric, the vivid reds and vibrant greens bringing tears to her eyes. It was everything she wanted and everything she couldn't have all at once.

###

Khushi used his bathroom to change into the outfit, acutely aware that he sat just outside, fiddling with his phone. They'd barely spoken, despite everything that had happened, so she prepared herself for a long overdue conversation by mentally rehearsing the things she wanted to say to him. But a knock sounded just as she emerged from the bathroom, and she breathed a sigh of relief as Arnav-ji opened it.

Anjali-ji stood at the door, jewellery boxes in her hands, "Wear these and come downstairs. We're ready for the _Griha Pravesh_."

She deposited them on the bed before glancing at Arnav-ji, but left without speaking to him. Again, Khushi felt wretched for tearing them apart. She settled in front of his mirror to thread on the earrings, affix the _maangtikka_ , and slip on the necklace. She pulled her _mangalsutra_ out from behind it before opening the second box.

Bangles.

A memory slammed into her, and she was out of her seat and rushing out of the room before Arnav-ji could utter a sound. She found the small bag she'd left in the guest room untouched, and rummaged through it until she found a long, slim box. Then she slipped on the orange-red bangles, uncaring that they didn't match the outfit and fighting tears as she recalled the way he'd smiled in victory as he'd confirmed that she'd worn his gift.

 _Where did he go, the man who became a waiter for me, the man who bought these bangles for me, the man who kissed me at the poolside and challenged me to do the same?_

She was beginning to understand that what he'd seen and heard on the terrace had destroyed the foundations of whatever it was that had held them together.

Maybe irrevocably.

Arnav-ji wasn't in the bedroom when she returned, so Khushi sat on the bed until Anjali-ji came to fetch her. Downstairs, her husband looked up as they approached, and for a second she imagined that his expression matched the one he'd worn on the night of the photo shoot. But it was gone in the next instant.

There was none of the happiness or fanfare she'd imagined for her wedding when Anjali-ji performed an _aarti_ to formally welcome them into Shantivan as a married couple. Instead, there were the disapproving looks from Mami-ji, tears from Jiji, disappointment from Anjali-ji. And Shyam-ji's jealous stare.

"Now you two can enter the house," Anjali-ji invited.

Kicking over the small vessel of rice, Khushi made to step forward when Anjali-ji spoke again.

"Stop. Our family has a tradition. _Chhote_ has to carry you into the house."

Dread swelled inside her, knowing that he wouldn't agree. And sure enough, he protested, "Is this really necessary, Di?"

"It's tradition, _Chhote_. You must."

"Aakash- _bitwa_ had to carry this _Khoon Bhari Taang_ too," Mami-ji interjected, "Though how would you two know, busy as you were with your own personal marriage?"

The guilt that had been her constant companion since last night swelled inside her chest.

When Arnav-ji looked at her, asking a silent question, she tried to nod her acceptance. He hoisted her up in a smooth, practised motion. Her hand trembled as she lifted it to grip his collar, the familiar act seeming suddenly too intimate. But then he seemed to soften, his gaze warming slightly as he noticed the bangles she wore, and he carried her over the threshold and into the house before depositing her near the stairs.

She stumbled, cursing the too-long skirt of her borrowed outfit, and had to grab onto him for support.

"Careful, Khushi."

She righted herself, somehow finding it within herself to blush, as Anjali-ji approached.

" _Chhote_ , wait here," she said, "and we'll prepare for the next ritual."

It wasn't until they were in his bedroom that Khushi realised what the next ritual was. Shyam-ji was already there, and the bed was decorated with a curtain of flowers.

"Anjali-ji, this isn't—"

"—We must complete all the rituals, Khushi-ji, even if you and Chhote have rendered them meaningless."

Khushi blushed crimson at the insinuation that she and Arnav-ji had already observed their _Suhaag Raat_ , and she realised with dawning horror that her own family must have come to a similar conclusion. A shiver of revulsion shook her frame as Shyam-ji paused in his work to stare at her. She pulled her _dupatta_ around herself, watching Anjali-ji shower the fresh white sheets with red rose petals. The lights and roses and candles seemed to mock her with everything she and Arnav-ji weren't.

Khushi shook as Anjali-ji helped her onto the bed before arranging her skirt and _dupatta_. Shyam-ji stood to the side, delicate rose petals crushed in his fist.

"I'll call _Chhote_ ," Anjali-ji announced when she was done.

Horror brewed within her at the prospect of spending the next few minutes alone with Shyam-ji, but Anjali-ji called him over as she left. Her relief was short-lived, however, because he paused at the door to stare once again. She suddenly felt filthy, every bit as disgusting as Arnav-ji had said, arranged on a bed in a bridal get up while another woman's husband leered.

Arnav-ji strode up the corridor just then, his eyes narrowing at Shyam-ji, and the other man left without a word. Relief spread through her even as she noticed that he was yet again full of rage.

 _But why wouldn't he be_ , she asked herself, _when his sister's husband is so despicable._

"I don't know how I'll stand it," Arnav-ji turned away as if the mere sight of her nauseated him, "sharing a room with your for all these months. Breathing the same air as you. Disgusting! When I think about it I want to ..."

Khushi scrambled off the bed, her heart suddenly heavy.

"You know why we're doing this," she said softly, "It's not like I wanted this either ..."

But this was clearly the wrong thing to say.

"I know what you want," Arnav-ji barked, suddenly towering over her "and I won't let you have it."

He dragged her forcibly to the poolside, "We'll act like a happily married couple outside of this bedroom, I know you're adept at acting. But inside this room you're insignificant. You mean nothing to me."

And with that, he slammed the glass doors shut and disappeared into his bathroom.


	13. Chapter 9: Careless

**Chapter 9: Careless**

* * *

 **Khushi**

The next morning, Khushi blinked her eyes open reluctantly as she contemplated the sunshine streaming through the glass doors. She was warm and snug and secure, though her clothes felt uncomfortable and she was still wearing her earrings.

She fiddled with them absently as she looked around, and the sight of the bed, half its decorations torn off and most of its pillows askew, caused the memories to flood back.

Arnav-ji had carried her inside last night when the rain had started, ignoring her groggy protests. He'd settled her on the sofa and tucked a blanket around her, before soothing away her fear of the storm with gentle words. Khushi stood, looking around for him before realising that the shower was running. Deciding that he could answer for this unexpected kindness when he emerged, she started to tidy the mess of ruined decorations.

 _It looks like he destroyed them sometime in the night._

Her memories of the night providing no answers, she supposed that an unexpected surge of guilt or compassion had forced him to bestow some good will. And obviously, that decision had been hard won amongst the conflict that now guided all his actions and words.

She paused as the door to the bathroom clicked open to reveal Arnav-ji, dressed in a blue shirt and black slacks. He hesitated in the doorway for a beat before continuing to his wardrobe.

He spoke as he pulled out a tie, "Get ready, we're going somewhere."

Khushi opened her mouth to tell him that she had no clothes before recalling the orange _salwar suit_ she'd left in the guest room. Hari Prakash-ji had arranged to have it laundered. She nodded, heading to the corner where she'd placed it with the small bag of her things.

"Will you answer a question?" he asked suddenly.

"Only if you answer one as well," Khushi faced him.

He considered for a moment before nodding.

"Why are you wearing them? The bangles. They don't match."

Khushi tried to tell herself that it was only the Managing Director of a fashion house asking, his sensibilities affronted at the clash of red and green with orange, but her heart seemed to skip a beat anyway. She contemplated and rejected a dozen answers, all too close to the truth, before settling on a response.

"Everything has changed. I wanted to wear something familiar."

 _I thought it would remind you of a happier time, when I thought you could love me._

He turned to the wardrobe to fish out his waistcoat. Khushi took a deep breath before asking her question.

"Did you order a new laptop?"

He turned, his eyes flicking to her before finding the small white table on which his things usually sat. The sound of his laptop smashing into a thousand pieces seemed to echo in their silence.

"Aman will deliver it later today."

It seemed absurd — they'd eloped, they were husband and wife, and he thought his Jija had been unfaithful with her — and yet they were talking about bangles and laptops.

 _I guess we have to start somewhere._

A knock sounded on the door just then, startling them both, "Chhote, open the door."

They stared at one another in horror before bursting into action. She snatched all the discarded strings of flowers off the floor and piled them next to the sofa. He grabbed the blanket from the sofa and the small pillow she hadn't noticed from the floor and messily arranged them on the bed.

 _Wait ... he slept on the floor?_

She was distracted from that thought as Arnav-ji's hands settled at her waist. He moved her gently out of the way, "Khushi, your hair."

Khushi raised a hand to her hair distractedly, watching as he stood on the bed to take down the rest of the flowers. Something about the way he stretched caused a blush to rise to her cheeks. Then he climbed down, pausing to pick a leaf out of her hair, and surveyed the room.

It was only when his gaze caught on her figure, his eyes raking up and down, that she realised that her _dupatta_ had fallen askew. She quickly covered her midriff as he crossed to the door.

Anjali-ji didn't speak until she was standing in front of Khushi, a yellow _sari_ bundled in her hands.

"Get ready in this, and then come downstairs for the _chauka pujan_ ," she instructed.

Taking the bundle gratefully, Khushi watched as Anjali-ji shared a look filled with disappointment and anguish with her brother before leaving without another word. His pain seemed to tear her heart to shreds.

"Arna—"

He left without acknowledging her.

#####

She showered and changed, glad that Hari Prakash-ji had laundered her things so she had a fresh set of underclothes, and ventured out of the room. She was met at the bottom of the stairs by Anjali-ji, but they were intercepted on their way to the kitchen by Mami-ji.

"I don't give this _Phati Sari_ permission to enter the kitchen!" she declared.

Khushi felt Anjali-ji's fingers tighten at her elbow. She looked down, nervously twisting her hands together as her sister-in-law defended her.

"I know the way Khushi-ji and Chhote got married has upset you," Anjali-ji tried to reason, "but Khushi-ji is a part of our family now."

"Not for me!"

In the kitchen, Jiji stopped what she was doing as Nani-ji approached them.

"Just as Payal- _bitiya_ is a _bahu_ after the _Griha Pravesh_ , so is Khushi- _bitiya_ ," Arnav-ji's grandmother spoke decisively, "I will give her permission to enter the kitchen."

Mami-ji spluttered ineffectually before storming away in a huff.

Khushi felt helpless, powerless, standing there while the elders argued over her fate as if she was no more than a misbehaving child. She turned to thank Nani-ji, grateful for the intervention all the same, but the other woman spoke again without acknowledging her.

"Don't mistake this as forgiveness. I'm only doing this because Anjali- _bitiya_ wants it."

Khushi fought back tears as she stood next to her sister in the kitchen, warming up oil in a small pan. It should have been familiar and easy — she'd grown up working and cooking beside Jiji — but instead, it was bitter and awkward. Jiji refused to look at her and ignored her tentative attempts at conversation. The disquiet within her heart spilled over.

"Talk to me, Jiji!" Khushi grabbed her sister's hand, "Scold me. Strike me if you wish, but don't ignore me like this, Jiji!"

"If you want me to talk to you, then tell me why you did it."

 _"How much do you love your sister?"_

 _"All I have to do is stand here, and your sister will remain unmarried for a second time."_

"Jiji … I c-can't."

"You're always so careless, doing whatever you want with no thought to the consequences," Jiji accused, turning back to her food, "When I was getting married you ran off with the papers for the shop, and you met _him_. And now … the two of you have again …"

Jiji trailed off, twisting out of the way as Khushi reached for her hand, "Jiji …"

But Jiji gathered the breakfast things and turned away, leaving her alone in the kitchen.


	14. Chapter 10: Choices

**Chapter 10: Choices**

* * *

 **Khushi**

Half an hour after Jiji had left her in the kitchen, Khushi approached the dining table with slow, shuffling steps. But her heart soared when she realised that Jiji had called home, and was now talking to Amma.

"Everything ... everything is fine here, Amma."

Khushi approached her sister, "Jiji, may I?"

Jiji handed her the phone after a short hesitation and returned to her task of readying the table for breakfast.

"Amma ... it's ... it's me ... Kh-Khushi."

Amma fell silent in the middle of her sentence. And then a series of low beeps told her that the call had ended.

"Amma! ... Amma! ..."

A terrible loneliness welled within her as she contemplated a future where no one wanted her — not her husband, not his family, and not even own.

"What are you doing?!" Mami-ji called out as she flounced towards them, "Are you standing around crying? If you miss your maternity homes so much then why have you forcibly come here? We didn't want you anyway!"

Khushi cringed as Mami-ji berated Jiji, ordering her to get back to work, before rounding on her, "And you! Comes with me!"

Back in the kitchen, Mami-ji paced in front of her like an angry general.

"You may have cooked, but no one in this house wants to eat your food! Don't even show your face at the dining table lest everyone loses their appetite."

She stopped, eyes narrowing, "What's this! Have you burnt yourself? You don't even know how to work in the kitchen? Hello, hi, bye bye!"

Khushi didn't bother to hide her tears, humiliation threatening to overwhelm her as Mami-ji marched away. She followed, hoping to find something in Arnav-ji's bedroom to soothe her burn, and found him standing around the corner. It was clear that he'd been standing there for a while.

"Come," his voice was surprisingly gentle as he led her to the study.

He sat her on a sofa before rummaging through a drawer and pulling out a first aid kit.

"I can do it," she protested as he took her hand, but he silenced her with a look.

He tended to her carefully, first applying cream before bandaging the wound, and she was reminded of the time he'd driven to a temple to tend to her wounded finger.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

"I was distracted, thinking of how to make Jiji talk to me, and the oil overheated."

"Be careful," he admonished with a tinge of anger in his voice, "first the bangle and now this."

She closed her eyes, liking the feel of his fingers against her skin entirely too much. The reminder of the way he'd bandaged her wound in the car, his breath warm against her skin as he'd used his teeth to take out the glass shard, heated her body.

"It's done."

Khushi opened her eyes to watch him replace the first aid box in the cupboard.

"Arnav-j—"

"Khushi-ji are you hurt?!"

Shyam-ji rushed into the room, his arm extended as if to touch her. Khushi recoiled, pressing up against the sofa in an attempt to get away.

"How dare you, _Arnav_ ," Shyam-ji snarled as he turned his attention to the figure now frozen in the corner, "How dare you touch her."

Arnav-ji took a step forward, his fingers curling into fists as he seemed to snarl, and a terrible fear coiled around Khushi's heart. She sprang forward to place herself between the two men, her only thought to prevent them from coming to blows. It would destroy everything they'd worked for if anyone saw them and told Anjali-ji. Her husband froze when he touched his arm, looking down at her in disbelief.

"Chhote? Khushi-ji? What's wrong?" Anjali-ji appeared at the top of the stairs as if called by ill fate.

"Nothing, Di," Arnav-ji spoke, his eyes still burning into Khushi's, "Nothing at all."

He stormed away after one last, baleful look at Shyam-ji, and Khushi watched him disappear through the front door as tears prickled in her eyes. Then she started as a hand touched her cheek, barely containing a scream before realising that it was Anjali-ji.

"Did Chhote fight with you?" she asked softly.

"N-no," Khushi answered truthfully, "he was bandaging my arm. I burnt myself."

Behind Anjali-ji, Shyam-ji seemed to seethe. Khushi tried to focus on her sister-in-law as she spoke again, "Then why did he leave like that?"

"If his sister doesn't understand him," Khushi tried to smile, "then what hope does his wife of two days have?"

She bounded away before Anjali-ji could speak, heading towards his bedroom. Once there, she shut herself inside and sagged against the door, recalling the betrayal in his eyes as she'd stood between him and Shyam-ji.

She knew how it looked. She knew _exactly_ what had gone through his knees buckled as a wave of despair overcame her and she sank to the floor, sobs wracking her form.

 _But what else could I have done, Devi Maiyya?_

It seemed that every decision she made was wrong. Everything she did only hurt him more, and it was all the worse because it was _him_ , the one person she'd never wish to hurt.

 _What if staying here was a mistake? What if I'm only hurting him?_

Once the thought was in her mind it was impossible to banish, the idea that she should've just left that night instead of forcing this mockery of a marriage on him.

Khushi spent the day in the bedroom. She watched TV, though not even the latest episodes of her favourite serial could coax her out of her melancholy. She strolled around the poolside, her fingers tracing the delicate leaves and flowers of the plants he took care of so diligently. She pretended to be asleep when Anjali-ji knocked on the door.

It was late in the evening when Arnav-ji finally returned, striding into the room and throwing his keys on the table before shrugging out of his jacket. He didn't seem to notice Khushi as she sat in a chair by the poolside until he stepped outside.

"What are you doing here?" he barked, "Get out! Leave me alone, dammit!"

She stood hastily, aiming for the door, but he caught her arm when she was alongside him.

"How can you be so vulgar? Your mother won't speak to you. Your sister can't even look at you. And no wonder. You defended your lover out in the open today."

He'd always known, hadn't he, how to tear down with just a few words, and now she crumpled under the weight of his accusations. Every word was a clean, precise incision into her heart.

"I didn't!" Khushi gasped with pain, her tummy roiling in protest, "What if someone had seen? What if someone had told Anjali-ji?"

"Since when do you care so much about my sister?" he scoffed, his hand tightening on her flesh.

"Stop," she twisted in his hold, "You're hurting me."

He released her so suddenly that she stumbled into the table, and by the time she'd regained her balance he was at the bed. He gathered up a blanket and pillow before returning to the glass doors and threw them carelessly on the ground.

"Stay the hell away from me."

* * *

 _Thanks for reading :) I hope you liked it! Please let me know what you think :)_

 _ **A friendly reminder that this story will NOT update to a schedule.**_ _Please don't comment asking for more updates, it will only upset me at a time when things are very difficult._


	15. Chapter 11: Clothes

**Chapter 11: Clothes**

* * *

 **Khushi**

"What's this?" Mami-ji taunted, "Are you still wearing Anjali- _bitiya_ 's sari? Your Bua-ji still hasn't sent your clothes?"

Khushi looked down at the floor, her cheeks heating with humiliation. She'd ventured downstairs in the hopes of asking her sister for a change of clothes and found Mami-ji and Anjali-ji instead. Her shoulder ached, a reminder of the uncomfortable night she'd spent at the poolside, but she tried to ignore it as Mami-ji continued.

"Maybe we should lock her up, hello, hi, bye-bye. How will we explain her presence to the guests today? Maybe we should say that the priest had a special offer for _Holi_ : pay for one wedding and get a second one for _phree_!"

Sourness churned in Khushi's tummy as Anjali-ji stood, "Khushi-ji, I'll bring clothes for the _Muhn-Dekhayi_ ceremony to your room."

She returned upstairs with a heavy heart, a part of her glad that Arnav-ji had left before she'd woken that morning. She folded her blanket and pillow, stowing them away in the wardrobe, and ran to the door at Anjali-ji's knock.

"Wear these, and wait for me to get you," her sister-in-law instructed, handing her a bundle of clothes and some jewellery boxes, "Hari Prakash-ji will come for the _sari_."

She started to leave, but then paused, "Chhote hasn't given you the bangles?"

"What bangles?" Khushi shook her head in confusion.

"Never mind," Anjali-ji patted her arm, "I'll speak to him."

She changed in the bathroom and rushed to hand the _sari_ to Hari Prakash-ji when he arrived. The borrowed clothes were too tight in some places, too loose in others, and itched like nothing else.

"Such annoying clothes," she huffed as she reached behind to tie her _dori_ , "I'd rather …"

But then she recalled exactly why she needed to borrow clothes in the first place, "Oh no, these clothes are just fine."

Turning, she spied her _payal_ on the floor and bent to retrieve it. The fabric of the blouse ripped.

" _Hai Devi Maiyya_!"

Khushi inspected the damage in the mirror and gasped in dismay when she realised the sleeve was hanging by a few scant threads. Quickly crossing the room, she used the landline to call downstairs and ask one of the servants to bring her a needle and some thread.

 _But what will I wear in the meantime?_ she fretted, _I've already returned the sari._

Her gaze caught on her husband's wardrobe.

Ten minutes later, after Om Prakash-ji had delivered sewing supplies to the room, Khushi rushed to the wardrobe to fish out one of Arnav-ji's shirts. She glanced towards the door, hoping that he would remain missing for just a few minutes longer, and quickly replaced her blouse with it.

Then she sat cross-legged on his bed, working furiously to repair the damage. She yanked in frustration at the too-long sleeve of his white shirt when it annoyed her and have a horrified gasp as it ripped.

 _Oh, Devi Maiyya!_

Footsteps sounded in the corridor. An all too familiar silhouette appeared at the doorway. Khushi launched herself off the bed and behind the poolside curtains just as Arnav-ji opened the door. She trembled, praying that he somehow hadn't seen her, and bit the ruined sleeve of his shirt as his footsteps approached.

He flung the curtains away in one smooth motion, anger etched into his features.

"What the—"

Khushi stared up at him. He stood frozen, his eyes travelling up and down her form as she shook. Then closed his eyes tightly, and when he opened them, all his rage seemed to have disappeared as if she'd imagined it.

"Are you going to wear this today?"

Khushi shook her head, bewildered. His eyes warmed and his lips tilted into a half-smile. Her pulse skittered.

"You don't even know how to wear a shirt," her husband teased.

She pressed her eyes closed when he reached towards her, only to open them again when she felt him fiddling with the shirt's collar. He fixed it with gentle fingers.

"Now it's okay," he announced when he was done.

She blinked, incapable of offering resistance as he guided her to the green sofa.

"I have to give you something," he knelt in front of her.

Arnav-ji produced a gold bangle from a box and reached for her wrist. His smile disappeared when he noticed the ripped sleeve, now adorned with lipstick marks. Swallowing hard, Khushi nervously tried to rub it away but he stopped the motion of her hands, his fingers gentle on hers as his smile became forced.

"You're so crazy," he took her hand again, "Did you rip my shirt?"

Khushi trembled, shaking her head, and watched as he pursed his lips before smiling. This time, the expression seemed genuine, matching the warmth of amusement in his eyes.

"It's okay."

"Huh?" it seemed that her ability to speak had flown away.

"Yeah!"

Khushi's pulse hammered as he slid the bangle onto her wrist, his fingers gentle and his smile growing ever wider. She snatched the second bangle out of his hand when he fished it out of the box, not understanding his sudden kindness but unable to trust it.

She stood and turned away from him, "I can do it myself."

But Arnav-ji stood as well. He placed both hands on her shoulders before pulling her so her back collided with his chest.

"We have an audience," he murmured against her ear, "Behave."

His heat seared into her, the fabric of the shirt she wore doing almost nothing to hide how warm he was. She struggled to draw air into her lungs as she trembled in his arms.

She drowned in him.

His familiar scent enveloped her and she knew that her hair would smell like him for the rest of the day.

He stepped away slightly. To anyone watching it would look like they were touching but Arnav-ji was careful not to touch her. He stood close, shifting with her as he pretended to run his hands up and down her arms.

She didn't know how long they stood there, her body wracked with tremors as his breath warmed her neck, but it was long enough to make her weak-kneed. And just when she thought that she couldn't take another second of the sweet torture, he leaned forward.

"Okay, she's gone."

But he didn't move away.

Afterwards, she wouldn't know whether she pressed into him or he leaned into her, but suddenly his hands were on her waist and his lips were on her neck and electricity filled her veins. His touch seared her. It was the briefest of moments, over before it really began, but she had to hold onto the sofa to keep from falling when he stepped away.

Immediately, she missed his warmth.

"Get ready and come downstairs," he spoke as if nothing had happened, "Most of the guests are here."

He paused at the threshold of the bedroom, "But it may be wise to change out of my shirt, Khushi Kumari Gupta."

* * *

Perditrix _:_ _This update made my day!_

Thanks! Update days are my favourite!

 _CrazyChick114: Omg! I absolutely loved this chapter! I really liked the bandaging scene! Even the part where Khushi stood in front of Arnav. You know, during the show, I mostly saw Khushi's isolation and sadness, but even though your story is Khushi's POV, I can feel Arnav's pain too. Maybe because Khushi chose the marriage? Anyway, just wanted to say that you're an amazing writer and I absolutely love all your work!_

Thank you very much! Awww, that makes me feel so special! I'm very glad that you've mentioned Arnav's pain - sometimes I think it's a difficult story because it's from Khushi's POV and readers tend to overlook what Arnav is going through. The interludes are intended to help but I feel I'm not doing a good job!

 _Joey: I am not sure I understand Khushi. I am sorry I have lost track of what happened earlier, am reading the story after a really long time and only the last two updates but I am not sure what Khushi got out of marrying Arnav. And I am not sure why she expects her foster parents and her jijii to understand or forgive when she is not willing to say anything, even in the serial. I get that she was indebted to the Guptas so chose to get married to Arnav rather than destroy her sister's marriage but once it was done, why would she not confide at least in her sister, has always been lost on me._

I think it might help you understand Khushi's frame of mind if you read it from the beginning again. I think she felt she couldn't confide in Payal for the same reasons Arnav never tells Aakash - it would cause more problems than it would fix and become a family issue, which would then impact Anjali's happiness and pregnancy. Plus, Khushi's not exactly the kind of person who says "Hi Jiji, I married Arnav-ji because he threatened to break up your marriage" - Khushi believes the situation is her fault because she didn't tell the truth earlier, and she wouldn't want Payal to blame herself for it.


	16. Chapter 12: Crimson

**Chapter 12: Crimson**

* * *

 **Khushi**

When she was ready, her fallen _payal_ on her ankle and the repaired blouse under her _dupatta_ , Khushi made her way to the _Munh Dikhayi_ function. Her nervousness, which had disappeared briefly during the … _adventure_ … with Arnav-ji, had returned in full force. She stood silently, watching through her _dupatta_ as her sister was introduced to the guests.

"Manorama," a heavily made-up lady pitched her voice to carry across the room, "Are you sure that's your _bahu_?"

"Yes," Mami-ji peeked under Jiji's _dupatta_ , "It is."

"Then who is that?"

Khushi trembled as everyone turned to stare at her, suddenly glad that for the veil that hid her face.

"That's Khushi," Anjali-ji said.

"Khushi? As far as we know, the bride's sister is named Khushi," another woman spoke up.

"Did she marry into the house as well? Without warning?"

The women murmured amongst themselves as Anjali-ji ponderously climbed the stairs to stand beside her.

"Did something happen so that she _had_ to get married so quickly?"

Khushi closed her eyes.

 _They think that I … that Arnav-ji and I …_

"That's ENOUGH!"

Arnav-ji stood in the corridor, hands fisted and eyes flashing.

"Before you say anything else, remember that the person you're speaking of is my _wife_ ," he stepped down to stand on her other side, "And I will not tolerate anyone speaking of any of the Raizada _bahus_ in this manner."

A startled jolt travelled through her as he took her hand to lead her down the stairs, not stopping until they were standing in front of the lady who'd spoken.

"Don't forget that you are a guest in my house."

The lady remained defiant, looking to her companions for support, "We're simply questioning such a hasty wedding. No announcement, no warning, and here you are, married."

"I don't owe anyone any explanations," Arnav-ji declared icily, his fingers tightening around hers.

"Chhote!" Nani-ji approached them, her mouth twisted in displeasure, "This is no way to treat our guests."

The ladies sniffed and tittered but seemed unwilling to pick a fight with him.

"We'll begin the ceremony," Anjali-ji broke the uncomfortable silence.

When they were settled side by side on a makeshift seat, faces veiled, Jiji surreptitiously reached for her hand. Khushi twined their fingers together, glad for the unspoken support. They stayed like that as the procession of ladies passed by, lifting their veils and bestowing blessings or praise before setting a gift on the table in front of them.

Aakash-ji sat on Jiji's other side, ducking his head as the ladies gushed about what a beautiful pair they made. Under the cover of her _dupatta_ , Khushi saw that he traced his fingers along Jiji's arm when he thought them unobserved. Jealousy stabbed at her as she wished for what they had, but it was quickly replaced by cold, sinking feeling as she regretted her thoughts immediately.

She felt Arnav-ji's stare from where he sat at the dining table, his phone in his hands. Feeling unexpectedly humiliated by the ceremony, she wished with all her heart that he'd chosen to sit next to her.

Just for a little while.

Suddenly he stood, and for a heartbeat, Khushi imagined that he'd heard her thoughts before she realised that he was going upstairs.

 _"You understand that this is not real?"_

 _"There is no future, and after the baby is born …"_

Her heart seemed to drop into her shoes.

"Chhote, sit next to Khushi-ji," Anjali-ji stopped him as he walked by.

He opened his mouth, frowning, but Nani-ji cut him off before he could utter a sound, "Yes, come and sit by your _wife_."

He surprised everyone in the room when he complied with a sigh, coming to sit beside her as the women in the room giggled and gushed.

"I never thought I'd see him married," a lady hovering to the side murmured, loud enough for Khushi to hear.

"He doesn't look happy," her companion replied, "he would've been much happier with my daughter."

Khushi curled her fingers into her skirt, feeling her chest constrict with some emotion best left unexplored. She blinked rapidly against the prickle of tears.

"You tried for so long to arrange an alliance with this family," the first lady spoke again, "Now both sons are married to these Gupta sisters from Lucknow."

"When will this be over?" her husband murmured after the ladies had moved away.

She took a shaky breath before replying, "Soon."

"We're leaving after this."

"Where?" Khushi looked up, startled.

"Somewhere. Anywhere."

. * . * . * .

He drove them to the café they'd once met in to discuss bringing together Jiji and Jija-ji.

It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Tea, with a free _biscoot_?" he asked as he pulled out her chair, his mouth tilting into something resembling a smile.

Blushing, Khushi nodded.

"Are you hungry?" he set a menu in front of her.

She flicked through it, frowning at the unfamiliar food. Arnav-ji ordered for them when the waiter came around; black coffee and a sandwich for himself, and a tea for her. After a moment of hesitation, she asked for a sandwich too.

She drummed her fingers on the table in the silence that followed but stopped when he frowned in her direction.

 _Why can't I do anything right when I'm around him?_

"Will you answer a question?" she asked.

"Only if you answer one too."

The food arrived, and Khushi smiled a ghost of a smile at the echo of her words from the other day as she waited for the staff to leave.

"Who was watching us … earlier?"

Arnav-ji froze in the middle of taking a sip of coffee, "Mami. With binoculars."

Khushi hid her grin behind her cup, barely containing a giggle.

"How many more of these functions are left?" he asked after a short pause.

"One more. The _pagphere rasm_."

"What's that?"

"Someone will come to collect us in the morning. We'll spend the day at home, and you and Aakash-ji will pick us up in the afternoon."

"What a waste of time!"

"I'll come home in a rickshaw," Khushi stared at the table, "or ask Jija-ji to drive me. You don't need to trouble yourself."

They spent the rest of the meal in silence.

"Come," he stood when they were finished, "I have some things to do."

Arnav-ji drove to a designer showroom, where he quickly asked to see the owner. Assuming that he was here on business, Khushi left his side to walk amongst the displays of _salwaar_ suits. She ran her hands over a cream and crimson one, liking the simple design on the dress.

"Do you like it?" her husband appeared beside her.

"No," she quickly dropped her hands, her eyes finding the floor, "Is your business over?"

"Point out things you like," he said, "I need ideas for a project at work."

Khushi frowned, wondering why the head of a fashion house needed advice from her. At his nod of encouragement, she pointed out two of her favourite things on display and blushed when he raised an eyebrow. She was more careful after that, taking care to avoid pom-poms and temper her selections to what she imagined he favoured. Geometric patterns and clean lines.

Reds.

He bought them all when she was done, handing over a bundle of cash like it was nothing, and didn't speak until they were back in the car.

"I have one more thing to do. Here," Arnav-ji passed her a handful of notes, "I'm sure there are things you need. Meet me back here in half an hour."

He left without glancing back. Khushi stared at the money in her hands.

For a minute, she contemplated just standing here, refusing to spend the money he'd given her. She wasn't his wife, not really, and it seemed wrong to use his money. But he was right; she needed things, so she resolved to repay every cent before marching to the stalls. She arrived back at the car thirty minutes later, laden with bags. Underclothes, four plain suits (two to sleep in and two for daytime), a hairbrush, jasmine oil, and her favourite soap. A charger for Babu-ji's phone. A _basta_ to keep it all in so it wouldn't mess up Arnav-ji's bedroom. He arrived soon after and packed away her things without comment, shaking his head when she proffered his change.

In the car, Khushi peeked at him as he drove, wondering how to thank him for his kindness. In the end, she settled for simplicity.

"Th-thank you, Arnav-ji."

"It's fine," he said brusquely, "ask HP if you need anything else, he'll arrange it for you."

They were silent until he parked the car at home.

"And Khushi … don't sleep outside tonight. I'll take the sofa, you can have the bed."

* * *

 **Perditrix: Aw I loved how Arnav didn't get away even after there was no audience. Oh how I wish that they'd get along soon enough but I love these love/hate moments Great chapter**

Thank you very much! Take heart - there are more happy moments than unhappy moments from now on :)

 **aryaputra: Gosh I just am never disappointed with your fics. They get better and better over time (kinda like wine). And I always finish a chapter feeling completely satisfied. Completely random thought but have you heard of this Indian serial called 'Rangrasiya'? It stars Sanaya Irani as the female lead and the incredibly handsome Ashish Sharma. It's an intense, gripping series with a pairing to die for. Kind regards and best wishes, ~ArYa~**

Hiya! Thanks for reading, and for your wonderfully kind words! I'm striving every day to become a better writer, so your praise is very appreciated. I have watched the first four or something episodes of _Rangrasiya_ , but it reminded me so much of IPKKND that I decided to wait until I had completed the IPKKND recaps to watch it. I feel my brain will start to analyse _Rangrasiya_ instead and the recaps won't be as good anymore! So yeah, it might be a while until I get around to it, but I'm definitely interested! It looks like something I would love!


	17. Chapter 13: Collision

**Chapter 13: Collision**

* * *

 **Khushi**

The next morning, Khushi glanced at the clock as she folded her blanket. She'd managed to haggle Arnav-ji down from giving up his bed to an arrangement that involved them switching between the sofa and the bed every few nights. He'd still insisted on sleeping on the sofa first.

 _Hai Devi Maiyya, he's taking so long! Bua-ji will be here soon._

She moved his blanket and pillow from the sofa to the bed, fiddling with everything until it looked perfect. Then she paced the length of the room while she fretted, biting her nails, and rushed to the bathroom as the door opened.

"Arnav-ji you took so lo—"

Somehow they collided, his hands automatically finding her waist, and it was only when Khushi caught her breath that she realised he wasn't wearing a shirt.

 _Oh._

Her pulse roared in her ears. Her hands trembled as she tried to avoid touching his still-damp skin. When she gathered the courage to look at him, Khushi saw that he was watching her intently, and she drowned in his eyes until he shook his head to deliberately sprinkle water all over her. She blinked in surprise, hyperaware of the way his body moved as he gave a small chuckle.

Heat spread like wildfire in her veins.

She was still breathing too hard when he released her, allowing her to scamper into the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror.

 _Oh, Devi Maiyya, what's he doing to me?_

Thankfully, Arnav-ji had disappeared when she finished in the bathroom sometime later. She stood next to the poolside doors and rubbed a towel over her hair, clad in the pink _sari_ that Anjali-ji had lent her the night before, but froze when she noticed the two large bags on the bed. There was a note next to them.

 _"These are yours if you want them."_

Inside, she found the clothes she'd picked out the day before, folded neatly. She pulled them out one by one, unable to contain a grin, and saw that they'd been altered. Pompoms hung from all their sleeves.

Blinking back tears, she hugged a dress to her chest as she muttered to herself, "I'll thank him as soon as I see him."

Folding the dress again, she made to return it to the bag when she realised there was something else inside. A red drawstring pouch, inside which she found a small golden pot filled with _sindoor_. An intense joy washed over her as she ran to the mirror and placed some in her hair with a trembling hand.

 _Khushi Kumari Gupta … Singh Raizada._

She packed the clothes away but left the _sindoor_ under his mirror before bouncing downstairs to help her sister with breakfast.

"Jiji," Khushi spoke as she readied the tea, "You looked so beautiful yesterday."

"You looked beautiful too," Jiji smiled, "Are you ready to leave?"

"Yes. It will be so wonderful to see everyone again, won't it?"

Jiji paused in her cooking, "Khushi … you know that everyone is still very upset?"

Her tummy churned as melancholy hooked its claws into her again, "Yes, Jiji. But I'll make it better, I promise."

She didn't eat when the food was ready, choosing instead to loiter near Arnav-ji's seat and wait for him. He didn't appear, and her heart sank when she realised that he'd left the house without telling her yet again.

 _He doesn't have to tell you_ , she reminded herself.

But she wished he had all the same.

Pushing aside her sadness, Khushi ran to the door when a knock sounded to greet her aunt enthusiastically. But Bua-ji's smile faltered at the sight of her, sending heart dropping somewhere near her tummy again, so she hovered to the side as everyone exchanged pleasantries.

"Jiji," she whispered to her sister, "should I get the tea?"

"Yes, I'll sit with Bua-ji."

Mami-ji was standing in the middle of the sitting area when she returned with a tea tray.

"And this sample that you've left behind?" Mami-ji sneered in her direction, "What about her?"

Guilt gnawed at her insides as she saw how much the words hurt Bua-ji.

"Let's go, _Payalia_ ," Bua-ji turned to Nani-ji, "Namaste."

Khushi made to follow but paused when she realised that she didn't have her phone, "Bua-ji, I'll be back in two minutes!"

She ran, the pink fabric of her _sari_ in her hands, and snatched up Babu-ji's phone from where she'd left it charging. Then she paused in front of the mirror to fix her pleats and brush her hair and smiled when Lakshmi-ji ambled into the room with a bleat.

"I'm visiting my family today," she knelt to cuddle the goat, "I'll make sure Amma, Babu-ji, and Bua-ji listen to me. Somehow, I'll win them over. Take care of Arnav-ji while I'm gone."

Giving her friend one last hug, Khushi hurried back downstairs, thinking of the scolding Bua-ji was sure to give her in the _rickshaw_ for making them late.

"Bua-ji, I'm rea—"

Everyone in the sitting room turned to stare at her. Her grin slowly slipped away.

"You're ready?" Mami-ji's tone was scathing, "But your Bua-ji isn't. She said hello, hi, took _Khoon Bhari Taang_ , and left with a bye-bye."

But Mami-ji's cutting remarks barely registered as Khushi tried to make sense of it, "Bua-ji … left … without me?"

"She didn't just leave," Mami-ji said gleefully, "she left your clothes."

As her eyes found the small bag stuffed with all her things, Khushi felt as though the last link to her childhood home had snapped. She sobbed, bereft of everything that she'd based her life on, and suddenly wanted to be alone. No one stopped her as she left.

It was only when she was at the poolside that she completely succumbed to her sorrow. She curled up on the ground, her knees against her chest, and tried to hide from the world.

She'd never felt so alone, so unwanted, so utterly lost.

"I thought your Bua-ji was taking you ho—" Arnav-ji arrived unannounced at the poolside, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Khushi brushed away her tears.

Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a knock, "Chhote? Khushi-ji?"

Khushi tried to wipe her face clean as Arnav-ji left her to help his sister over the threshold, "Di, how was your test? What did the doctor say?"

"Everything is fine," Anjali-ji brushed his concern away, "but that's not why I'm here. Chhote, I want you to take Khushi-ji home for the _pagphere_ ritual."

"Anjali-ji, I …" guilt swelled within her at Anjali-ji's concern.

 _It was my idea to get married like this. This is all my fault._

"Khushi-ji, don't you want you meet your family?" Anjali-ji asked, "Are you happy with these circumstances?"

Then she turned to her brother, "Chhote, these rituals and customs mean a lot to me. They must be completed."

"I'll drop Khushi to her house," Arnav-ji said quickly, "Please just relax."

The car ride was silent and awkward, utterly different from yesterday's trip to the café. He turned to her a few times, looking as though he wanted to say something, but turned back to the road without a word each time. It was as if all the moments they'd shared had disappeared with the reminder of their elopement and the people they'd hurt. And _why_ they'd had to hurt them.

Struggling with their silence, Khushi tried to thank him for the clothes and the offer to drive her but the words kept getting lost on the way to her mouth. She watched her husband drive instead, wondering what was going through his mind and whether they'd ever get back what they'd once had.

 _Will he ever look at me as he had on the day of Jiji's mehendi?_

 _Will he ever touch me as he once had on stage?_

 _Will he ever kiss me again?_

Suddenly the man who'd smirked while showering her with droplets of water seemed so far away that she may as well have dreamt him up.

"Khushi, we're here."

She startled out of her thoughts and watched as he reached into the back for the bag of gifts Nani-ji had sent along. She fiddled with the door handle after he unbuckled her seatbelt, reluctant to leave. Relief leapt in her heart when he spoke.

"Wait."

Arnav-ji handed her a brand new phone.

"Leave that phone at home," he muttered, "and keep this with you. My number is already on it."

Khushi between him and the phone, "You didn't have —"

"—I _did_ have to," he spoke gently, "I broke your phone."

The memory of the way he'd thrown it onto the floor of the storeroom slammed into her. And with it, an idea.

"If you came inside," she ventured, "you could speak to Amma and Bua-ji about … about …what happened …"

She trailed off uncertainly, watching his eyes darken and his fingers curl into a fist. He spoke after a long silence.

"Call me if you need anything."

The dismissal was clear. Khushi slid out of the car, clutching the gifts in her hands, and gave a small wave as he drove away.

* * *

Perditrix **: You're simply the best. I loved how Arnav kinda defended Khushi. I'm super excited for the next chapters**

Thank you very much, you're much too kind *blushes a lot*


	18. Chapter 14: Crescendo

**Chapter 14: Crescendo**

* * *

 **Khushi**

For the first time since she'd left Lucknow for Delhi, Khushi climbed the steps to her Bua-ji's house feeling as though she didn't belong. It had only been a few short days but Shantivan already felt dangerously like home. She trembled with trepidation as she pressed the doorbell.

Amma opened the door with a smile that faded away almost instantly. For a brief, horrifying moment, she thought her mother wasn't going to let her in, but Amma stepped aside after a quick glance around the neighbourhood. Inside, Jiji was spooning water from a glass into Babu-ji's mouth. Her father's smile soothed some of her fears.

"Who is it, Nand Kishore?"

Bua-ji froze in the archway, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "You? Why are you here?"

"Bua-ji, did you think that I wouldn't come just because you didn't take me with you?" Khushi kneeled in front of her father with a pout, "Bua-ji always does this, Babu-ji! She left me there because I was a little late!"

Her father closed his eyes as a tear spilled over, his trembling hand moving a few inches to cover hers. She didn't try to hide her own tears, "Babu-ji, I miss you so much. I miss you _all_ so much."

She crossed the room to stand with her mother, "Amma, I want to apologise for what happened, for how it happened."

When Amma didn't look at her, she tried her aunt, "Bua-ji, you always forgive me, so this time—"

"—No!" Bua-ji stepped away, "Not this time. Your apology won't change what's happened. I'll never forget it, the way you stood in front of us as a bride without any explanation or permission. No _Khussi_ , there is no forgiveness for you after this!"

"But Bua-ji—"

"Do you think this is a joke, Khushi?" Amma spoke for the first time, "Do you think you can come here, apologise, and we'll forget everything?"

"She thinks it's a joke," Bua-ji seemed to shake with fury, "She didn't have to listen to what people were saying, she didn't have to answer the questions about how many girls we married off in the same night."

A hollow opened up in her tummy, threatening to swallow her whole. She stumbled into a chair, barely listening as Jiji tried in vain to calm everyone down. Bua-ji paced the floor as the raged.

"No one needs you in this house, Khushi, no one. Leave. Call your husband and ask him to get you this instant. Go!"

Standing on unsteady legs, Khushi placed Babu-ji's phone on the dining table before using her new one to make a call. Arnav-ji answered almost instantly.

"Khushi?"

"I'm ready to leave," she tried to keep her voice from cracking, "Can you ..."

"So soon? Is everything alright?"

"No, it's ... it's fine. I thought I would go to the temple. Can you meet ... meet me there?"

"Yeah, sure," his tone lowered, "But Khushi, are you sure everything is okay?"

"Yes. I'll see you ... see you when you get there."

Brushing away her tears, she ended the call and turned back to her family. Jiji placed a hand on her shoulder and faced their family defiantly, "Amma ... Bua-ji ..."

"Don't defend her, _Payaliya_ ," Bua-ji growled, "what kind of a sister elopes with your _jeth-ji_ on your wedding day?"

"It's okay, Jiji," Khushi tried to smile, "I'll see you at home this evening."

She turned to the door, barely holding herself together. A part of her hoped that someone would stop her but no one spoke as she crossed the threshold. Her heart seemed to break anew as she closed the door behind her.

The short walk to the temple passed in a blur.

 _"Do you think this is a joke, Khushi?"_

 _"No one needs you in this house, Khushi, no one."_

She slipped off her shoes before entering, standing as close to the dais as possible.

"I miss my home," she told her best friend, "I miss Amma and Babu-ji. How could they ... they just ..."

She lapsed into silence as her phone lit up and her husband's name scrolled across the screen. Some part of her noted that he'd put his name in as "Arnav", not "Arnav-ji". Instead of answering, she worked her way to the temple entrance to find her shoes. When she looked up, she saw his car pulling up to the front of the temple and watched as he parked it.

He slid out.

Some part of her broke when their eyes met.

She ran, holding her _sari_ in one hand and her phone in the other, and crashed into him. Her tears wet the fabric of his waistcoat.

"Ssshhhh," his hand found her hair, "Khushi, calm down."

Somehow, his gentle comforting only made her cry harder. "They said," she hiccuped, "they said that they didn't need me anymore. That they would never forgive me."

"Come."

Arnav-ji scooped her up, waiting until she gripped his collar before carrying her to his car. Once there, he helped her into her seat and handed her a handkerchief. Khushi smiled at him wanly, grateful for the small kindness.

It wasn't until they stopped, not even five minutes after he slid into the driver's seat, that she realised they weren't going home. He'd parked the car in front of Bua-ji's house.

"Arnav-ji?" she questioned.

He paused in the middle of alighting from the car, "It's time we ended this charade once and for all."

She tried to reason with him as he led her up the steps on the porch, "Arnav-ji, you can't ... they're very upset ..."

"Trust me."

Bua-ji opened the door at his knock, " _Payaliya_ , did you forg—"

" _Namaste_ ," he greeted, "May we come inside, Bua-ji?"

He stepped over the threshold, not waiting for an answer, and her aunt was forced to allow him inside. Khushi trembled as her mother and father froze at the dining table.

"I'll tell you what I told her," Bua-ji spoke after closing the door, "we have no need for you either of you here. _Payaliya_ was so upset that Aakash- _bitwa_ came and collected her. They didn't even eat lunch."

"I know you're angry," Arnav-ji began, "but this is hardly necessary."

"What did you expect, after what you two did?" Amma stood, "You eloped with our daughter. She, _and_ _you_ , have shamed us. We have nothing to say to either of you."

"Shamed you?" her husband's tone was ice, "Tell me, would you have disowned Payal if she'd done the same thing?"

"Payal would never—"

"Don't presume to tell me what Payal would or wouldn't do," Arnav-ji interrupted Bua-ji, "I know exactly how far she would go for her family."

"Arnav-ji," Khushi yanked at his sleeve, "What are you ..."

He ignored her, "Her marriage to my brother is based on lies. You, all of you, were so eager to marry Payal into the Raizada family that you put Khushi's safety and welfare on the line."

"What?! How dare you!" Amma screeched.

"Leave, leave now!" Bua-ji demanded.

"Arnav-ji ... please ... let's go ..."

But he remained where he was, deathly calm.

"Tell me about Shyam Manohar Jha."


	19. Chapter 15: Confession

**Chapter 15: Confession**

* * *

 **Khushi**

"Tell me about Shyam Manohar Jha."

Arnav-ji's voice was tight with barely restrained fury.

Bua-ji sat down heavily on the couch.

Amma swayed and caught herself on the table. "You ... you know?" she whispered as she lowered herself into a dining chair.

"I know," Arnav-ji confirmed.

He strode to the dining table and settled into a chair, opposite Babu-ji.

"You must understand," Bua-ji directed her words at the floor, "We never meant ... We didn't know."

Khushi remained where she was, twisting her hands in the entryway. Her chest tightened with worry as her mother began to weep.

"He was in Lucknow. He saved Khushi from those ... those men," Bua-ji continued, "Then he was here."

"What men?"

Khushi trembled, suddenly unable to meet her husband's eyes. "M-men, in the marketplace. They recognised me from the vi-video. They said I should f-fall into their arms. That I should ... I should ..."

When she finally looked at him, using all of her courage, she found that he was staring at her in horror, "You never said ..."

 _It wasn't your fault_ , she told him silently, _you couldn't have known._

"He arranged a job for me," Khushi continued, "at the AR warehouse here in Delhi, but I was sent to the headquarters because of a misunderstanding. Soon afterwards, he became a paying guest here."

"He said he didn't have a place to live, and we needed money," Bua-ji wiped her tears with her _dupatta_ , "My pension ..."

Khushi's mind flipped to the memory of the first time she'd come home to find that Shyam-ji hadmoved in with them.

"Are you following me?" she'd joked.

She swayed on her feet, suddenly feeling sick. Arnav-ji leapt up from his seat and forced her into a chair. When he spoke, his voice was taut with rage.

"You allowed a strange man to live here, in this house with two unmarried women?"

"You don't understand," Bua-ji sobbed again, "He seemed so nice. He deceived us all."

"And then ..." he prompted.

"Then Shashi- _babua_ got sick. We had two unmarried girls, the shop in Lucknow was closed, my pension was still stuck. Khushi ... she was working but it was barely enough to cover the medicine."

"He was suspicious of Shyam," Amma spoke quietly, "We should have listened."

"It seemed like fate," Bua-ji whispered, "the horoscopes, the _sindoor_ , everything. And then ... then ..."

"You forced Khushi to agree to a marriage," Arnav-ji filled the silence.

Amma gasped, "No! We didn't force her. We ... she ..."

Khushi took a deep breath that turned into a sob. Arnav-ji's gaze seemed to burn through her.

 _I can't let Arnav-ji think that Amma and Bua-ji forced me._

 _But ... I can't let him think that I chose Shyam-ji either._

Thankfully, Arnav-ji didn't pursue that any further.

"When did you find out?" he asked instead.

"He came home one day and told us everything," Bua-ji answered, "He ... I don't know what he expected."

Khushi's voice trembled as she took up the story.

"I found out first. I broke the engagement that ... that day ... the _Satyanarayn_ _puja_ ," understanding flared in Arnav-ji's eyes as she finished., "But he followed me out of the house and threatened my family. My Jiji."

" _Payaliya_ was already engaged," Amma explained, "Her first marriage broke and we just wanted ... we just wanted this one to be ..."

"So you lied to my family, to my brother?"

"Anjali- _bitiya_ , it would have destroyed her."

But Arnav-ji wasn't having any of Bua-ji's defence.

"Let us not pretend that my sister was your first concern," he said coldly, "In fact, let us not pretend that you were concerned about anyone but yourselves. Not even Khushi."

"We've always looked out for Khushi!" Amma protested.

"Oh yes, I've seen the way you look out for her. Where were you when Shyam was threatening her on the terrace? Where were you when he was _touching_ her? Do you even know what you've been punishing her for these last few days? She came to me that night, _begging me to protect her sister,_ and I did what I had to."

"She never ... never told ..." Bua-ji spluttered.

"Oh," Arnav-ji scoffed, "Sure."

"Arnav-ji, please," Khushi stood, "I need to speak to you. Alone."

His eyes burnt with anger when they met hers but he followed her into the bedroom she'd once shared with Jiji without question.

"I understand your anger," she began once the door was closed behind him, "but you cannot speak to my family like that."

"Khushi, they—"

"—No, nothing gives you the right to speak to my family in this way."

His eyes narrowed, "Nothing? How can you defend them? If what they say is true then they have been unimaginably cruel."

" _If_ what they say is true?" she was aghast, "You _still_ don't believe us?"

"Khushi, do you know how impossible this all sounds? Shyam met you in Lucknow, then stayed with your family as a paying guest, then somehow you were engaged? And all that time you didn't know that he was married to Di? You practically _lived_ in Shantivan all those months."

"But it's the truth," Khushi cried, "Amma and Bua-ji told you! Why would they lie?"

"Payal is married to Aakash, she lives in the same house as that man! How could they allow that if they knew what he was? And how ... how could they keep it from us? All those days and nights they stood in my home, amongst my family, you all _knew_ and didn't tell us?"

She froze, trying to see it from his point of view as he continued, "Did they think she'd be _safe_ under the same roof as him after he'd threatened her safety and future? Or were they blinded by their greed?"

"Arnav-ji, it's what really happened. Look ... there will be something ... something in this room that will help me prove it."

"Fine," he ran a hand through his hair, "Fine. Show me."

Khushi searched frantically in her cupboards, "I promise, there's something ... there must be something ..."

He turned to the set of drawers, pulling them open and rummaging through while muttering to himself. Khushi busied herself in her _almari_ , hoping against hope that there was something to show him. But she knew Shyam-ji had never signed any papers, had always paid in cash and had never even helped with Bua-ji's pension as he'd promised.

 _Oh Devi Maiyya, please, please, please help me._

"What the—"

Khushi turned to find that Arnav-ji had frozen at the drawers. He held something shiny.

"What the hell is this?!" he growled, thrusting it in her direction.

Hurrying over, she saw that it was a piece of purple gift wrap. Her eyes found the tag as her husband's hand crumpled it.

 _"Dear Khushi-ji, with love from Shyam."_

Khushi closed her eyes. Despair made her limbs heavy. She stumbled towards the bed and caught herself on the frame.

Arnav-ji took a deep breath, "This is your proof?"

She sank onto the mattress, "No ..."

"Enough," he threw the gift wrap across the room, "We're done."

"Arnav-ji ..."

He suddenly stood in front of her, his hands on her shoulders as he forced her to look up, "Why would you keep it, if it wasn't from your lover? It's a memento of your affair, proof that he meant something to you!"

"No!"

"Then why would you keep it, Khushi?" his voice broke, "Why would you _keep_ it?"

"I don't ..." she placed a trembling hand to his shoulder, "I don't know ... I swear Arnav-ji ... I can't even remember what came with it."

"Lies," he turned away, "Lies, always lies."

Khushi stood, "I hate him. I hate him as I've never hated anyone in my life. I hate him so much that it makes me sick to look at him. I hate him so much that I would rather die than have his name and mine be taken in the same breath."


	20. Chapter 16: Confection

**Chapter 16: Confection**

* * *

 **Khushi**

"I hate him. I hate him as I've never hated anyone in my life. I hate him so much that it makes me sick to look at him. I hate him so much that I would rather die than have his name and mine be taken in the same breath."

For a moment, it seemed that Arnav-ji had softened, that he was _finally_ listening to what she was saying. But then ...

"I can't do this with you," he strode to the door, "I can't."

Khushi sank back onto the bed, trying to stop her tears in vain. Eventually, when she had composed herself, she returned to the main room and found Arnav-ji standing near the front door.

"We're leaving," he announced when he saw her.

"You won't stay for lunch?" Bua-ji flapped her hands in his direction, "But ... I thought ..."

Arnav-ji didn't respond. Khushi felt the weight of his gaze as she knelt in front of her father's wheelchair.

"Bye Babu-ji," she held her father's hand, "I'll visit you again soon."

She said her farewells to her mother and aunt before joining Arnav-ji at the door.

"Visit soon, _babua_ ," Bua-ji spoke softly, "and ... and take care of our daughter."

Arnav-ji gave a small nod.

"And ... _babua_ ..." Bua-ji examined her hands before meeting his eyes, " _Payaliya_ ... she lives in your ... your house now ... and ... she meant ... we all meant well ... you see ..."

Khushi noted an unexpected warmth flare in his eyes as he responded, "I won't turn her out of her home. I'll take care of both your daughters, don't worry. Tell Payal nothing. I will handle it when it's time."

Though clearly surprised, Bua-ji nodded her agreement.

"Khushi," Amma hurried over, a small bag clutched in her hands, "Take this."

Her mouth twisted into a bitter smile as she recognised the bag as the same one that had come with Arnav-ji's bangles a few nights ago. A quick glance told her that he'd recognised it too.

"Thank you," she smiled at her mother, "I'll call you later."

They drove to Shantivan in silence, a chasm of misunderstandings between them, and though she tried to think of something to say, they reached their destination before Khushi had uttered a sound. She followed Arnav-ji out of the car and to the entrance of the house, where he held out his hand.

"I don't want to worry Di. She has to believe that your _pagphere_ went well."

Nodding, she slid her palm against his. He held tightly as he pressed the doorbell.

"Hello, hi, Arnav- _bitwa_ ," Mami-ji answered, "And the esstra _bahu_. Welcomes back."

"Chhote? Khushi-ji? How did it go?" Anjali-ji arrived in the entryway.

"Fine, Di," Arnav-ji said brusquely, "Everything is fine."

He shouldered past his sister. When Anjali-ji narrowed her eyes at her, clearly mistrustful, Khushi mustered up a smile, "It went well, Anjali-ji. Did Jiji and Jija-ji return safely?"

"They returned some time ago," Anjali-ji nodded, "Payal-ji is in the kitchen. They wouldn't answer our questions."

Khushi's eyes followed her husband as he disappeared up the stairs, "I'll see if she needs any help."

She found her sister pacing the length of the kitchen, fidgeting with the _pallu_ of her _sari_. Jiji quickly turned away, but not before Khushi saw the glisten of tears.

"Jiji! Are you crying?"

"N-no. It's nothing. Where ... where you and Arnav-ji?"

 _"Tell Payal nothing. I will handle it when it's time."_

"We just went to eat," she spoke over the rumble of her tummy, stepping closer, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Jiji!"

Her sister took a deep breath that turned into a sob, "Maa-ji shouted at me. She accused me of trying to ruin her diet. All I did was bring her lunch."

Khushi eagerly turned her mind to this new problem, glad for the distraction.

"We just need to figure out what she likes!" she paced the kitchen, "Think, Jiji, think. What does she want? What does she like? What will make her happy?"

"Send me out of this house," Jiji said tearfully, "Then she'll be happy."

"Jiji! I'm trying to find a solution to our problem, and you're spouting lines like the heroines of old films!"

She paced some more, biting her nails. Then her eyes found a small platter with the beginnings of a salad.

"Jiji!" Khushi bounced eagerly, "We'll make something she likes to eat!"

"No, no, she's on a diet. She loves _kheer_ and she's not even eating that."

"Not a problem, Jiji!" she hurried to grab what she needed.

A little while later, she sat on the countertop, watching as her sister stirred the contents of the pot.

"What do you think, Khushi, will everything be okay now?"

"Yes Jiji!" she said confidently.

Her sister remained unconvinced, "This _kheer_. What if she doesn't like it ... and her dieting ..."

"It's been made with her diet in mind!" she reminded her sister, "There's no sugar but it's still tasty!"

 _Thank you, Devi Maiyya, for helping me learn to make all those sugar free desserts._

"Where did you learn this?" Jiji asked.

Khushi shifted so her blush was hidden behind her hair, "Uhh, I taught myself these last few months."

"For Arnav-ji?" her sister asked astutely, "Like the sugar-free things on Diwali?"

Hopping down, she took the spoon from Jiji and stirred the _kheer_ , "It doesn't matter. What matters is that we have something to appease Mami-ji!"

"Here, _khas-khas_ ," Jiji reached for a small container, "Bua-ji says that it—"

"—Changes the _kheer_ entirely," Khushi finished, stepping away from the pot.

"Payal-ji? So it's you making the _kheer_?" Anjali-ji approached them, smiling, "Mami-ji just sent me downstairs to find out who is making such delicious smelling _kheer_."

Khushi bounced as she watched her sister smile.

"And for Chhote ..." Anjali-ji began.

"There's no sugar at all," Jiji explained, "So he can eat it."

Anjali-ji nodded, "Khushi-ji can you take some out for him?"

"Yes."

When Anjali-ji was gone, Khushi filled a small bowl and set it on a small tray.

She turned the stove off, "Jiji, I'll just go and ..."

"Yes go," her sister spoke distractedly, "I'll be fine here."

She hurried up the stairs with the tray balanced in her hands and tried to ignore the slight tremble that went through her body when she reached the doors of his bedroom.

 _Khushi, just go in there and put the_ kheer _on the table. You don't even have to talk to him. He won't fight with you if you don't give him the chance._

A deep breath, and then she shouldered her way into the room. To her surprise, Arnav-ji was asleep on the sofa, one hand behind his head and the other slung across his middle.

 _Last night was his first on the sofa. He must not have slept well._

Approaching as silently as she could, she placed the tray on the small table before kneeling in front of him. Her eyes found the tear that still clung to his eyelashes, the near-invisible trail of moisture from the corner of his eye to his hair.

 _Oh Devi Maiyya, he's so hurt._

It was evident in the way he wouldn't meet her eyes, in the way he couldn't repeat Shyam-ji's words, in the way he could barely recount what he'd seen on the terrace. His pain seemed to make her heart ache because she knew that she would be hurt too if their positions had been somehow reversed. But she often lay awake at night contemplating the reason for his hurt, wondering if he felt his love had been betrayed as well as his trust.

 _But I would ask him for the truth and I would believe what he told me. I would listen._

The memory of the way she'd denied him a chance to explain the mixup at the guesthouse did not inspire confidence, however, though her mind shied away from the thought that she wouldn't listen to him at all.

 _I would trust him._

 _I would._

Khushi reached out to wipe away his tears. He looked peaceful, though up close she could see the unhealthy parlour of his skin and lines of weariness etched into his features.

 _Why don't you trust me?_ she asked him silently, _I'm trying my best._

 _I love you so much._

His eyes blinked open unexpectedly, "Khushi?"


	21. Chapter 17: Cherished

**Chapter 17: Cherished**

* * *

 **Khushi**

"Khushi?"

Her heart skipped several beats - fear or something else, she didn't dare to examine - as he sat up. Arnav-ji blinked at her, his gaze turning cold as he seemed to remember.

"Not now," he stood.

Khushi followed him to the poolside after snatching the bowl of _kheer_.

"I ... we ... Jiji and I made _kheer_. Without sugar."

Arnav-ji took up a pair of shears and spoke without turning, "What will Payal say if I ask her about Shyam?"

"The same thing Amma and Bua-ji told you."

"The same lie? Your entire family rehearsed this story?" he snapped the shears in frustration.

Sadness pulsed in her chest, "Or it's the truth."

"The truth," Arnav-ji scoffed.

"How can I prove anything to you if you're not willing to listen?" Khushi asked desperately.

"Listen?" he finally turned, his voice rising with every word, "I don't need to _listen_ to anything!"

He held her wrist, pulling her closer, "I saw you on the terrace. I saw you ... in ... in each other's arms ... I heard what he ... what he said to you! What you said to him!"

"I've tried to explain—"

"— You have no idea do you?" Arnav-ji's grip loosened slightly as he interrupted her.

She watched as anger leeched out of his expression and stuttered a response, "Wh-what?"

"How pretty you look when you're angry."

She blinked at him, completely flummoxed by the sudden change in him, and his mouth tilted into a smile.

"What!?" she managed.

"But that doesn't mean that you should always be angry with me," he said reasonably, "Come."

Khushi didn't resist as her husband gently guided her to the outdoor setting, where he sat her on a seat before settling opposite her. He silenced her with a shake of his head when she tried to speak.

"I was saying," she tried again, "How can I prove that I'm inn—"

Unnoticed, Arnav-ji had reached for the _kheer_ and was now spooning some into her mouth. She swallowed instinctively, blinking in shock. His smile widened. Then he reached towards her, his eyes seeming to sparkle with mirth, and she watched his fingers warily as he wiped a grain of rice from the corner of her mouth. Her pulse stalled, electricity flooding her at the simple touch.

He caressed her cheek before guiding her hand to the spoon and using it to feed himself. There was something in the way he looked at her, his eyes refusing to leave hers as his mouth closed around the spoon, that caused heat to rush through her veins. Khushi struggled to draw breath.

"With you feeding me," he smiled, "even this sugar-free _kheer_ tastes sweet."

 _Oh, Devi Maiyya._

Had it been only this morning that she'd asked herself whether he'd ever touch her again? Whether he'd ever look at her way he was doing now — as if she was the answer to every question he'd ever had. So great was her relief that she almost sobbed, suddenly wanting this moment to never end. When Arnav-ji fed her again, gently spooning the _kheer_ into her mouth, her only thought was that the spoon had been in _his_ mouth mere seconds ago.

She imagined that she could taste him.

 _Hai Devi Maiyya, what shameless thoughts!_

She inhaled some rice and doubled over, coughing violently.

"Khushi!" Arnav-ji took the spoon from her trembling hands, "Khushi, are you okay!?"

She pressed a hand to her chest, still coughing, and felt him move away. Seconds later, a glass of water flooded her vision.

"Khushi, are you alright? Here, take this water."

He gently patted her back as she sipped. His fingers continued to caress the fabric of her blouse once the coughing had subsided.

"Are you okay?" his voice was soft.

She nodded.

"Di was watching from the terrace," he explained, "so ..."

Everything, all the tentative happiness, relief and gladness inside her turned to ash, leaving her feeling suddenly hollow. Her tummy churned, the _kheer_ sitting heavily inside her. Khushi stood on unsteady legs and brushed him away.

"Wait," he tugged at her arm, a calculated gesture that had her crushed against him in the next instant. Her pulse reacted to his nearness.

"Is Anjali-ji still watching?" she breathed, her eyes pressed tightly shut.

Arnav-ji inhaled deeply instead of answering, his chest rising and falling against hers, and weakness flooded her once more. Khushi trembled as he dipped his head, his breath warm on her skin.

"Will you answer a question?" he asked softly.

"Only ... only if y-you answer one t-too."

"You didn't like the clothes?" he ran a hand over the back of her blouse.

Her breath came in erratic gasps as she recalled the clothes he'd gifted this morning, "Anj ... Anjali-ji gave me this _sari_ to wear, and it ... it felt wrong not to accept her gift. Th-thank you."

He made a small noise of acknowledgement.

"Did you really ... really like the _kheer_?" she whispered her question.

"It was delicious," he murmured, "You should make it again."

Khushi nodded against his shoulder. Her fingers curled into his waistcoat as she breathed him in. The air around them seemed to thicken, charged with the _want_ that pulsed through her veins. It would take just a small shift of her head, almost nothing, for her to press her lips to his skin. But then Arnav-ji released her slowly, seeming reluctant to break contact, and left the poolside without a word.

Alone, she breathed deeply, her mind awhirl. Her fingers still trembled, her cheeks and neck felt hot. The terrace was empty when she thought to look, leaving her momentarily nonplussed.

 _Had Anjali-ji been there at all?_

 _Oh Devi Maiyya, it's impossible to know what he's doing. How much of it is a farce? How much of it is real?_

It all felt real, which of course was more than half the trouble.

Khushi made her way downstairs without taking note of her surroundings and was half way through mixing the batter for _jalebi_ before she realised what she was doing. The familiarity of frying the batter and dipping it into syrup gradually calmed her. She ate absently as her thoughts chased one another in her mind.

 _Perhaps if he talked to the neighbours, and to Happy-ji._

 _He didn't believe Amma and Bua-ji, why would he believe strangers?_ she argued with herself.

 _Why would strangers lie?_

 _What would strangers know of the truth?_

 _They know Shyam-ji lied about being unmarried._

 _But that doesn't prove that I didn't know. Only that they didn't._

 _Maybe if he asked at Shyam-ji's office about all the days he wasn't at work._

 _But he already knows Shyam-ji was in Laxmi Nagar._

 _What if he had Shyam-ji followed?_

 _What use is it now, Khushi? What will that prove?_

"There is no proof," she murmured, "that will convince him of my innocence. All I can do is prove that Shyam-ji wanted to marry me, which he already knows. I have nothing to prove that I didn't know he was married."

A flurry of footsteps distracted her from the wave of despair in her heart.

"Khushi-ji, are you okay? I heard your Bua-ji—"

She turned off the gas and faced Shyam-ji, "—Everything is fine, _Jija-ji_. My _husband_ made sure of it."

She counted a small victory in the way he grimaced as he looked around, "There is no one else here, Khushi-ji, you don't need to lie. Has he hurt you ... what did he do—"

"—Nothing" Khushi interrupted him, "He did _nothing_."

"And yet, you made _jalebi_. You only make them when you are upset."

Nausea roiled inside her as he recited the personal - _intimate_ \- knowledge he'd gained under false pretences.

Shyam-ji reached for her hand, "Khushi-ji ..."

"Don't touch me!" she backed away, "Your marriage may not hold any significance for you, but mine means a great deal to me."

She stepped around him and fled, leaving him standing in the middle of the kitchen.

. * . * . * .

Arnav-ji had not returned for dinner.

Worry clawed at her heart as she paced the length of the bedroom, stopping every few minutes to glance at the clock.

 _Oh Devi Maiyya, please keep him safe._

Her phone was a heavy weight in her hand. Unable to take it anymore, Khushi hurried across the corridor and knocked on Anjali-ji's open door.

"Anjali-ji ..."

Her sister-in-law looked up from the magazine she was flipping through. "Khushi-ji, are you alright?"

"I, you see ..." Khushi clasped and unclasped her hands around her phone, "Ar-Arnav-ji isn't back yet and I ..."

Understanding flared in the other woman's eyes, "Something must have come up at the office. Don't worry, Khushi-ji."

"His dinner ... and his medication. What if ..."

"He'll call if he needs anything," Anjali-ji reassured her, "I'm sure he'll be back soon."

Nodding, Khushi turned away, only to find Shyam-ji behind her. He held the plate of _jalebis_ she had abandoned in the kitchen.

"Khushi-ji, I was just about to show _Rani Sahiba_ this plate of _jalebi_ I found in the kitchen. But since you are here, I can ask you directly. Are you upset? Is that why you made _jalebi_? Tell us, maybe we can help. It can ... it can be difficult for a woman to adjust to a new household."

There was a glint in Shyam-ji's eyes, something that suggested calculation and malice.

"Wait," Anjali-ji joined them at the door, frowning at the plate, "I know that Khushi-ji makes _jalebis_ when she's upset, but I don't think I've ever mentioned it to you."

Horror uncurled within Khushi as she watched Shyam-ji pale. "I ... uhh ..."

"I told him. After all, Khushi is my wife. I know everything about her."

Arnav-ji stood at the end of the corridor. He held her gaze as he approached, and only looked away when he stood beside her.

"Isn't that right, _Jija-ji_?" his tone was saturated with menace.

Shyam-ji licked his lips nervously before nodding. Arnav-ji turned his heel, leaving Khushi to stare after him as he disappeared into his bedroom.

"See," Anjali-ji said brightly, "What did I tell you?"

Smiling wanly, Khushi bid her goodnight before following her husband. He sat on the sofa, taking off his shoes.

"What else don't I know?" he spoke as she shut the door.

"What do you mean?"

"He knew that you make _jalebis_ when upset, but I didn't. What else don't I know?"

Khushi blinked at him.

He sighed. "The more I know, the easier it will be to convince others that our marriage is real."

She sat across from him, on the edge of the bed, "Well ..."

Arnav-ji waited with uncharacteristic patience.

"I believe in horoscopes, I read them in the newspaper or watch them on TV."

Encouraged by his small nod, she continued, "My favourite colours are yellow and green. You know about the ... the _jalebi_ now. I also like _channa_ , and _ber_."

"Like the ones on my car?"

"Y-yes," she said, surprised that he'd remembered their meeting in his office carpark.

"Okay, so you eat when you're stressed. What else?"

"I tell _Devi Maiyya_ everything, she's my—"

"—Best friend, I know."

He held her gaze when she met his eyes, and her pulse stalled at what she saw there. There was warmth, and .. something ... something else.

"Keep going," he invited, his voice soft.

Khushi shifted, warming up to their game, and tucked her leg under herself.

"Babu-ji taught me how to make sweets. Our house in Lucknow is called _Gomti Sadan_. I shared the bedroom with Jiji, and we used to tell scary stories in the dark ..."

And he listened.


	22. Interlude: Ambush

**Interlude 2: Ambush**

* * *

 **Arnav**

He was weak.

The knowledge should not have surprised him, not after he'd agreed to marry Khushi and defied every person in his family to keep her by his side, but somehow it did every time he was reminded anew.

Arnav turned to the sleeping form of his wife on the bed. She'd embraced his suggested exercise with enthusiasm, entertaining him with stories for at least an hour before exhaustion had overwhelmed her.

He sighed, recalling how powerless he'd felt at the poolside that afternoon. There was something in the way she'd looked up at him, her bottom lip trembling and her fingers twisting into her clothes, that made it impossible to think. His body reacted instantly, almost violently, whenever she was near.

She ensnared his senses like nothing else.

Arnav's pulse stuttered as he remembered waking with her fingers gentle on his skin. She'd been ready to protest her innocence yet again when his sister had appeared at the top of the stairs leading to the terrace, clearly drawn by their raised voices, and he'd instantly changed tact, putting on yet another staged edition of _Arnav-aur-Khushi-hamesha_ for her benefit.

It had been freeing, cathartic in a way, to allow himself a few moments of pretend — where he was just Arnav and she was _his_ Khushi and his only concern had been ensuring that she ate something. But the way she'd reacted when he'd mentioned Di, her smile disappearing and the sheen of tears returning to her eyes, had compelled him to give her something real.

Something true.

And even spreadsheets and contracts had not been enough to distract him from the way she slipped past his defences.

. * . * . * .

 _Aman appeared in the doorway not five minutes after he'd stepped into his cabin._

 _"Sir?"_

 _"Come in."_

 _Arnav settled behind his desk as his manager sat opposite him, a collection of files in his hands._

 _"How is everything?" Aman asked tentatively._

 _"Fine," he said shortly, "report."_

 _"The Aggarwals have sent over a proposal, and a project team has been selected. The timelines seem reasonable."_

 _Arnav took the file his manager offered, nodding._

 _"The new seasonal line is almost ready," Aman continued, "I've arranged an inspection downstairs in the usual room."_

 _"I'll do it once we're done here."_

 _"And ... the personal matter ..."_

 _Arnav pressed a button on the underside of his desk, temporarily turning off all surveillance inside his office._

 _"Go on," he steepled his fingers._

 _"The background check showed nothing you didn't already know. Shyam Manohar Jha was relatively blemish-free before the marriage, though the question of his family history remains. There is no surviving family besides the distant aunt who attended the wedding. Nothing suspicious in the deaths of his parents."_

 _Aman handed over another file, "Sir, you didn't miss anything four years ago."_

 _"I must have," Arnav gritted his teeth, "I must have missed something. All these years ... and all the while he was ..."_

 _"Knowing what we know now, it seems that his first meeting with Anjali-ji at the temple was carefully engineered. But there was no way you could have known or suspected at the time."_

 _His manager continued after a short pause, "By all accounts, the strange behaviour began six months ago. Witnesses at the market confirm that a man saved Khushi-bhabhi when she was accosted on the streets. It was related to the release of the videotapes."_

 _Arnav's fingers curled into a fist as Khushi's words came back to him. "They recognised me from the vi-video. They said I should f-fall into their arms. That I should ... I should ..."_

 _"Two identified the man as Jha, the third remembered the bracelet," Aman continued, "I found something interesting on the security tapes at the Delhi warehouse. Jha spoke to the manager a few days before bhabhi arrived. She only stayed a few minutes but it seemed like she'd misplaced something. The neighbours in Laxmi Nagar confirmed that he lived there as a bachelor."_

 _"That only proves they didn't know the truth, not that Khushi didn't. She could have known. How could she not? She was always in Shantivan."_

 _"May I speak freely, Sir?"_

 _Arnav nodded, staring unseeingly at the files in front of him._

 _"No evidence will prove intent, Sir. At some point ..."_

At some point, I'm going to have to decide whether I trust her or not.

 _The problem was that his heart already did._

 _"What else?" he asked briskly._

 _"Mr Roy confirmed the changes you've asked for. The paperwork is in that last file."_

 _Arnav sighed. He'd asked for Di's monthly payments to be transferred to her personal account instead of her shared account with Shyam. He was aware, however, that nothing could prevent her from moving the money into the shared account. Under the law, everything she owned also belonged to her husband, even her income from the company she co-owned, the company that was named after her._

How can I protect her wealth when the law doesn't?

 _The change would, at least, serve as a warning to Shyam — a reminder of where his wealth came from._

If Shyam is serious about committing to Di and their child, then he will see this as a sign.

 _"I'll join you downstairs momentarily," Arnav dismissed his manager with a nod._

 _"Sir," Aman hesitated, "There is one more thing. The police reports from the car crash came back. The brake lines were not worn. They were cut cleanly."_

 _His chair threatened to tip as he stood abruptly, "What?!"_

 _"The police think you might have been targeted, but they got the wrong car."_

 _"I never drive the other cars," Arnav objected, "The rest of the fleet is for the family to use."_

 _"The people behind this didn't seem to know that. Sir, you should reconsider the security."_

. * . * . * .

Now, Arnav lay on his sofa as a war raged inside his heart.

 _"I only want you, Khushi-ji. I don't accept Rani Sahiba as my wife. And this marriage is meaningless to me. Believe me, Khushi-ji, I love only you, and I love you a lot."_

He closed his eyes as he leaned back, breathing deeply in an effort to banish the anger and hurt that roiled inside him.

 _"He'll see that I don't want ... That I ch-chose someone e-else."_

 _"I've been orphaned again because of what we did today."_

 _"I hate him. I hate him as I've never hated anyone in my life. I hate him so much that it makes me sick to look at him. I hate him so much that I would rather die than have his name and mine be taken in the same breath."_

 _"If that relationship holds no significance for you, then why don't you break your marriage? Leave Anjali-ji."_

Arnav's chest seemed to mind raced to that first — _no, second_ — night, when he'd been unable to watch her shivering in the cold night air. And to when he'd been unable to stand her tears as Mami berated her in the kitchen. When he'd been unable to witness her distress during that stupid unveiling ceremony. When he'd been unable to handle her tears as she'd held him on the temple steps.

He still loved her. It was despicable and wrong and felt like an affront to the memory of the mother who'd committed suicide because of every waking moment since that night had been spent in the grip of a terrible fear that Di would follow in his mother's footsteps if she were to find out the truth.

 _And if two living children weren't enough to save Mamma, then what if Di ... and her unborn child ..._

Aakash, ever an ally when it came to protecting their sister, could not be recruited to this effort.

 _"I just want to know whether you want to spend the rest of your life with this girl. You won't regret it later?"_

 _"No, Bhai. Never."_

Even if Khushi had been tricked, even if she hadn't willingly encouraged an affair, there was still the matter of the deception.

 _How will I tell Aakash that the wife he fought his mother for lied to him? Every step of the way._

Yet, despite all his fears, Arnav still cared — he cared about what Khushi wore and how she slept, he cared about whether she ate, whether she smiled and laughed, he cared about how their families treated her. And he _wanted_ , so much that it was sure to destroy him, especially when she was so unguarded with her own desire.

 _How much of it is a farce? How much of it is real?_

She seemed utterly guileless, unaware of the potent desire that ran in his veins.

 _"What did you think,_ Arnav _? That she wanted you? The dancing, the earring, that kiss by the poolside? Did you think it was real?"_

 _"Are you upset? Is that why you made_ jalebi _?"_

Jealousy had slammed into him then, making it impossible to even breathe. In that moment, it had not mattered whether Shyam knew such a thing because Khushi had told him or because he'd tricked her into revealing it somehow. The only thing that had mattered was that he'd known something that Arnav hadn't. Something that he should have known ... wanted to know ... had a right to know.

 _Damn it._

He sighed, closing his eyes and willing sleep to find him.

Whatever Khushi was, whatever she might claim to be, he was absolutely sure of one truth.

He was weak.

And in his weakness, he had decided to trust.


	23. Chapter 18: Conversation

**Chapter 18: Conversation**

* * *

 **Khushi**

Something had changed.

Khushi lay in bed, listening to the faint hiss of the shower as she replayed last night's odd conversation. While Arnav-ji had understandably been angry at Shyam-ji, he hadn't — so far — expressed any such emotion towards her. In fact, he'd been ... nice ... and she didn't know what to make of it.

Days of entirely avoidable misunderstandings — _if only he'd just listen, Devi Maiyya!_ — had led to the sobering notion that he would _always_ jump to the wrong conclusion about her intentions. Her attempts to avoid a fight had been misread as a defence of Shyam-ji. Her discomfort with the way he accused Amma and Bua-ji of wrong-doing had been interpreted as a facade.

But he'd acted differently last night by choosing to overlook what he'd seen. For surely, having come upon a scene where Shyam-ji was clearly showing off his intimate knowledge of her habits, likes, and dislikes, he could have jumped to the conclusion that they were tormenting Di, right there in the open. And yet, though he'd growled at Shyam-ji, Arnav-ji had only asked her to talk about herself, to tell him all that he didn't know.

The shrill ring of the phone interrupted her thoughts. Launching herself out of the bed, Khushi snatched it from the sofa and glanced towards the bathroom door as she answered.

"H-hello?"

"May I speak to ASR-Sir?" a gruff sounding man spoke.

"I'm sorry, he's busy right now. I can ... I can take a message," Khushi rushed to her _basta_ and fished out a small yellow notebook, "Okay, I'm ready."

"Please let Sir know that Mr Oberoi from London has landed. He's accompanied by a lawyer and wishes to sign the papers today. Mr Roy is preparing the final documents and the meeting is scheduled for 11 am."

Khushi wedged the phone between the ear and shoulder as she transcribed the message diligently.

"Your name and number?" she prompted, reminded strongly of her short-lived days as a personal assistant at AR.

The man supplied the required details before asking a question of his own, "Are you the new assistant?"

"Huh?" Khushi frowned, "Oh no! I'm not Arnav-ji's assistant. I mean, I was, a long time ago, and only very briefly, but now I'm his wife."

Silence met her statement.

She took a deep breath, " _Namaste_ , I'm Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada."

"My apologies for the confusion, Mrs Raizada."

"No harm done," she said brightly, "I'll let him know that you called."

She ended the call after exchanging polite goodbyes. Ripping the page from her book, she arranged the note and phone on the table before turning. Arnav-ji leaned against the frame of the bathroom door with his arms crossed, already dressed in a white shirt and grey slacks.

"Thank you, Mrs Khushi Kumari Gupta _Singh Raizada._ "

His mouth tilted into a smile as he added his name to hers. Her pulse skittered.

"Y-y-ou?"

"Yes, m-m-me," he grinned.

She blushed at the memory of their clandestine meeting during Jiji's _Sangeet_ , her skin warming as he pushed away from the frame to stand at the wardrobe.

"I forced Aman to take a few days off," he spoke with his back still turned, "Seems the office can't run without him."

"Is he ... ok-okay?"

Arnav-ji turned, his hands knotting a tie with practised efficiency, "He needed a holiday. He'll return a week after _Holi_."

She watched him, heart hammering and mouth suddenly dry because there was something so normal, _so domestic_ , about his behaviour. Unwilling to break whatever spell he was under, she stood still and silent as he gathered his things from the sofa and table. The message she'd taken disappeared into his pocket with his phone. Then he paused in front of her, his eyes narrowing at something at the poolside before settling on her again.

She trembled as he tucked a curl of hair behind her ear. "Wh-What are y-you ..."

"Ssshhhh."

 _Maybe someone is watching us again. Mami-ji. With binoculars._

"I have an idea," her husband smiled at her, taking half a step closer, "Aakash is signing a big deal today on behalf of AR. We should go out to celebrate, all four of us. Tell Payal and meet us at the Lotus Cafe at noon."

He smelled of his soap and aftershave. The light from the poolside doors caught the molten caramel in his eyes.

"Sound good?" he prompted.

She blinked, "Y-yes."

"I'll see you then."

Arnav-ji stepped away. The memory of the way Shyam-ji had cornered her in the kitchen rose to the forefront of her mind.

"Wait!"

He froze in the doorway and turned, eyebrow quirked in that way of his.

"I have to tell you something," she took two tentative steps forward.

"Can it wait until lunch?" he asked.

"It's import—"

"—I'm running late."

Arnav-ji looked down and away.

 _He doesn't want to talk._

Disappointment swept through her. Khushi nodded and watched him disappear through the doors before retrieving her _basta_ from the corner. She was rummaging through it when her phone rang. It was Arnav-ji.

"Wardrobe. Yellow package on the shelf to the right," he said without preamble.

He ended the call without waiting for a reply. Frowning, she slid open the wardrobe door and fished out the package. There was a note on top, written in his familiar near-indecipherable scrawl.

 _You no longer have to borrow from Di_.

Inside the box was a three-toned _sari_ ; teal and emerald green and royal blue blended seamlessly, with bright pink pleats that contrasted beautifully with the rest.

"It's so pretty!" Khushi grinned, hugging the soft material to her chest.

She paired the _sari_ with a brilliant green blouse that Bua-ji had dropped off with all her other things and was ready in record time, brushed, washed, and her hair falling neatly down her back. Then she went downstairs to help with the _puja_ preparations, trying her best to stay out of everyone's way. The glares and mutterings of the first day had lessened, though anger and disappointment still wafted in the air. Jiji still handed out the _prasad_ every morning.

"Payal-ji, Khushi-ji," Anjali-ji turned to them after the prayer was over, "Will you come to the storeroom with me after breakfast? I have something to show you both."

Khushi nodded before making her way to the kitchen, exchanging a perplexed look with her sister. Jiji shrugged as she readied the tea and lead the way to the dining area, where they both helped serve the breakfast things before sitting down to eat.

"Khushi-ji you look very pretty today," Nanhe-ji grinned at her from his seat across the table.

"That _sari_ ," Aakash-ji frowned, "That's part of the new collection."

She blushed as everyone turned to stare, "I ... that is ... Arnav-ji gave it to me ..."

Mami-ji sniffed in annoyance, "Now you're stealing from the company, is there no end to your greed?"

Her smile faded away, "I ... I didn't ... I didn't know ..."

"Maybe _Saale-Sahib_ fought with her," Shyam-ji turned his attention in her direction, "and is now trying to make up for his mistake."

 _Devi Maiyya, give me strength._

"No, _Jija-ji_ , he did not. As you know, a husband doesn't need an occasion to gift his wife a _sari_. It is his _haq_ ," she turned to her sister and brother-in-law, "Arnav-ji mentioned you are signing a deal today. Good luck."

"Thank you, Khushi-ji," Aakash-ji ducked his head.

The conversation soon shifted to other things, but Khushi found that her appetite had flown away. Sourness churned in her tummy as she felt Shyam-ji's slimy stare on her. Taking a deep breath, Khushi ran a hand over the seat of her husband's empty chair as her mind drifted. She imagined a morning where another Khushi and another Arnav-ji enjoyed breakfast at this table. She imagined that he would watch as she poured his orange juice and buttered his toast, a small smile on his lips, and would take her hand under the table when no one was watching.

Maybe she would pout when he fiddled with his phone until he tucked it away with a groan, and maybe Nani-ji and Anjali-ji would chuckle as they watched. Maybe she would walk him to the door, where she would embrace him before handing over his laptop bag. Maybe he would tug on her arm until she stood outside, where he would cage her against the door and lean in ...

Khushi shook herself out of her reverie, sighing deeply.

 _Why aren't you here? With me?_


	24. Chapter 19: Candour

**Chapter 19: Candour**

* * *

 **Khushi**

"I'm taking you to our storeroom," Anjali-ji led the way upstairs after the breakfast things were cleared away, "As Raizada _bahus_ , there are certain things you need to know."

She stopped at a door Khushi had only been through once when she'd come to deliver sweets for Anjali-ji's anniversary party.

"We keep everything here," Anjali-ji explained.

Khushi smiled at her sister in reassurance as they stepped inside. Light streamed in through a large window, falling on the shelves that lined the walls. The floor was a maze of boxes and crates. A table and some chairs were set up in the far corner, under a bright light that came to life as Anjali-ji flicked a switch.

"The family jewellery isn't here, of course," her sister-in-law picked a path to the corner, "Payal-ji, you received everything before you were married, and Khushi-ji has Mamma's bangles."

Khushi ran her fingers over the bangles Arnav-ji had gifted her with reverence. She hadn't taken them off, not even to sleep, and suspected that she never would.

 _Thank you, Saasu-maa. It feels like you've blessed me._

"This box holds all of Nana-ji's Holi things," Anjali pointed to a wooden box, "HP will be cleaning it all tomorrow so it's ready. Nani likes to use his things to play."

Jiji giggled, "That's wonderful, Di. What was Nana-ji like?"

 _Di. She calls her Di._

Sadness pulsed within Khushi as she realised that this was yet another privilege she hadn't yet been afforded.

"He was stern and kind-hearted, strong-willed and at times mischievous. Mama-ji has his kindness, Aakash has his understanding, and Chhote ... Chhote has his mischief."

"Arnav-ji?!"

"Yes, your Arnav-ji," Anjali-ji threw her a smile, "When he was seven he glued the cucumber shut on _Janmashtami_. Oh, Mamma gave him such a smack! And when he was fourteen he glued Aakash to the bed, though to this day he believes no one knows about it."

Khushi chuckled, trying to imagine it and failing miserably.

"He liked glue," Jiji observed with a smile.

Nodding, Anjali-ji reached for a heavy album from the shelf behind her, "Come, it's time you met our family."

They settled on the table and chairs with the album in front of them. Anjali-ji opened it to the first page.

"This is Nana's family. He had a brother and a sister."

"Oh," Khushi giggled, "That moustache!"

"Nana was a landowner. He went all the way to Lucknow to marry Nani! This is the house they lived in."

There was a faded photo of a large house and sprawling gardens.

"Nana and Nani had two children. Our mother and Mama-ji."

They studied a series of photos showing the two children growing up.

"Look at Papa-ji's hair!" Jiji incited a round of giggles as she gasped at a photo of her father-in-law in a school uniform.

Soon, Anjali-ji paused at a photo of a wedding, "Mamma and Papa married first. This is _Sheesh Mahal_ in Lucknow."

Khushi's attention sharpened as she recognised the mansion she'd first met her husband in, but Anjali-ji skipped several pages of the album to land on photos of another wedding.

"This is Mama-ji and Mami-ji's wedding. Mami-ji doesn't like talking about this, but there's something you both should know. Mami-ji was working for Nana and Nani as a servant when she met Mama-ji. They fell in love and when everyone found out ... they eloped."

Her neck and cheeks heated as both Anjali-ji and Jiji turned to look at her. But it was oddly comforting to know that this had happened before. The scion of his family had once before run away to get married and was _still married_ so many years later.

"It took some time before Nana and Nani were willing to accept Mami into the house," Anjali-ji said glumly, "It's still ... still sometimes a sore point between them."

A sick feeling arose in Khushi's tummy as she wondered what Jiji and Aakash-ji would say to their own children about her elopement. Would they spin it, sanitise it, speak of them as if they'd been misbehaving children? Or would they ignore it and pretend that it'd never happened?

 _What will these photo albums say about me?_

 _"But there is no future, and after the baby is born ..."_

 _Will I even be in them?_

Khushi broke out of her reverie when Anjali-ji and Jiji giggled.

"This is Mami-ji's family. She has one brother, we call him Masala Mama, and two sisters. NK-Bhai's mother lives in Australia with her husband. Her youngest sister and brother-in-law passed away, leaving an orphan."

"Oh!" Khushi gasped, taking her sister's hand as her vision blurred with tears of sympathy.

"She's a strong, brave girl. She stays at a boarding school but comes home for the holidays. She and Aakash share a special relationship, and he's her legal guardian now. We call her Babli."

Here Jiji smiled tearfully, her pride in her husband evident.

"There is more," Anjali-ji bit her lip, "But I ... I don't know where to begin."

Jiji reached across to take Anjali-ji's hand, "Di, you don't have to say anymore. We don't need to know anything else."

"You do. I don't ... It was different when I married Shyam-ji. We never intended to live with Chhote, so it seemed better not to delve into the past, not to pick at old wounds. But you two ... you have to live in this house for the rest of your lives. If I don't tell you, then who will?"

Khushi twisted her hands together, "Anjali-ji ... we don't ... we don't want to dig into your past if it makes you uncomfortable."

 _And what will Arnav-ji say if he finds out what Anjali-ji told me the secrets of his past?_

"No. It's okay," Anjali-ji took a deep breath as she turned the pages of the album back, "This is Mamma and Papa. Their marriage was ... was arranged. Papa was the son of Nani's childhood best friend."

Anjali-ji pointed to a photo Khushi recognised immediately as the one they'd used for the _barsi puja_ last year.

"Papa's family has ancestral wealth. Papa was the heir, and he had a younger brother. Our Chacha. _Sheesh_ _Mahal_ and its estates were to be Chhote's inheritance."

Khushi frowned at the past tense.

 _I thought Sheesh Mahal belonged to Arnav-ji._

"I was eighteen. It was ..." Anjali-ji sobbed, "It was my wedding day. I was s-so h-happ-py."

"Di, you can stop," Jiji held the other woman as she wept.

"I miss them both so much. They ... they left us on the same day. We were so alone. And Chhote, he was only fourteen."

Khushi stood so she could embrace Anjali-ji as well. Her tears ran unchecked as she imagined the pain they'd both gone through.

"Nothing can prepare you," she sobbed into Anjali-ji's shoulder, "My parents also died in an accident."

 _What else could have taken them away together, and so suddenly?_

At this, Anjali-ji took a deep breath and gently pushed them both away. She held their hands in hers. "No. You misunderstand."

"Di ..."

"Our mother committed suicide. She shot herself."

Khushi stood frozen. For a second, the words made no sense ... her mind kept trying to rearrange them, to somehow force them to take on a different meaning, but they wouldn't.

Anjali-ji continued before she'd gathered herself, "Then Papa, just a little while later. They ... they said ... there was another ..."

Her sister-in-law sobbed, took a deep breath, and spoke so softly that Khushi had to strain to hear.

"They all say there was another woman."

The world spun. Khushi gripped the table to keep from falling over, her knuckles white.

It was as though the last puzzle piece had fallen into place.

All his hurt, his harsh words, his reluctance ... no, his _inability_ to trust her.

She knelt next to Anjali-ji and laid her head in her lap. They wept - all three of them - until it seemed to Khushi that she had cried a lifetime's worth of tears.

"I'm so sorry Anjali-ji. You should ... you shouldn't have told us. We have ... we've hurt you."

"No, Khushi-ji. You both needed to know."

"But Anjali-ji ..."

"Di," Anjali-ji tried to smile through her tears, "Call me Di."

And Khushi found that she had more tears in her after all.


	25. Chapter 20: Celebration

**Chapter 20: Celebration**

* * *

 **Khushi**

Khushi gently shook the pleats of her _sari_ as she slid out of the car.

"I'll pick you both up from here when you're finished," their driver twisted in his seat to smile at them, "Just give me a call."

With Mohan-ji still in the hospital, a new driver had been hired.

"Thank you, Lalit-ji," Jiji nodded in his direction as she slid out, "Make sure you have something to eat while you wait."

Khushi's heart thundered as she looked up at the bright blue sign — THE LOTUS CAFE.

 _Arnav-ji._

Her husband sat somewhere in there, masking the pain inside him. Her hand trembled as she pushed the door open, allowing her sister to step inside first before following. The balding _maitre-de_ greeted them with a smile.

"Table for two?"

Khushi felt her sister's stare in the short pause that followed but found that she couldn't speak around the constriction in her throat.

"No," Jiji gave a small cough, "We're meeting someone here. Aakash Singh Raizada? Or maybe, maybe Ar-Arnav Singh Raizada?"

"Ahh, this way ma'am."

As if alerted to her presence by some sixth sense, Arnav-ji looked up as they stepped around a pillar. Her breath caught in her lungs. Her body rebelled; feet stumbling as she clamped down on the urge to run to him. To wrap her arms around him and assure him that she understood. To offer what little comfort she could.

Di's voice echoed in her mind.

 _"Our Chacha threw us out a few weeks afterwards, saying we had no place there anymore. Nana brought us to Delhi. Dadi-ji chose to live in an ashram after losing her firstborn son and she doesn't talk to Chhote when he visits, even though he donates money every year."_

He stood, greeting Jiji with a nod before turning to her. His eyes travelled up and down her body as he took in his gift. Khushi's heart skipped a beat as he smiled. She came to a standstill at his side and watched Jiji hug Aakash-ji quickly in greeting.

"Khushi."

Her husband indicated to the chair he'd pulled out for her. She sat after flashing him a smile that felt more like a grimace and noted that his eyes immediately narrowed.

"Your deal?" Jiji asked Aakash-ji once they were all settled.

Jija-ji passed around the menus, "It went well. The Nainital deal is finalised."

The rest of the conversation faded away as a memory surfaced.

 _"Do you know what it feels like to light your mother's funeral pyre? How it feels to return home after cremating your parents? How it feels to step foot inside the home they'll never return to? How it feels when everyone says that they understand but they don't understand a thing?"_

When she peeked at Arnav-ji over the top of her menu, she found him already staring at her. He quirked an eyebrow. She looked away.

 _Focus Khushi. Act normal._

For the next few minutes, she made conversation and smiled as they waited for someone to take their orders. Her eyes slid to Arnav-ji as Jiji and Aakash-ji busied themselves with the menus again.

 _How do I help him, Devi Maiyya?_

"What?" his voice was muted as he spoke without looking up from his phone.

"N-nothing."

"You keep staring."

"S-so? Is there a tax now, for staring at Arnav Singh Raizada?"

"What the—"

He looked up but his outburst was cut short with the approach of a waiter.

"Coffee - black with no sugar - and a toasted sandwich," Arnav-ji spoke after Jiji and Jija-ji had ordered, "and Khushi, do you want tea?"

"Tea," she confirmed, "and whatever Arnav-ji is having."

He blinked in surprise before nodding at the waiter, "Vegetarian, for both."

She watched her Jiji and Jija-ji after that, noting that they seemed perfectly at ease. Pink blossomed on Jiji's cheeks as Aakash-ji teased her but she gave a smart reply with a grin. Aakash-ji ducked his head as he chuckled. Khushi twisted the fabric of her _sari_ between her hands, fighting the urge to look at Arnav-ji again.

She gave a soft gasp when his hand clamped over hers.

"What's wrong?" he asked in undertone.

"No-nothing."

"Did someone say something? Nani? Mami?"

"No," she spoke before he could guess his sister's involvement, "It's nothing. I'm just feeling light-headed."

"What have you eaten today?"

"I had some tea," Khushi remembered waiting for him at the table at breakfast, "and ... and other th-things."

Arnav-ji looked up as the waitstaff arrived with their food.

"Eat," he urged when her sandwich was placed in front of her, "Make sure you finish it all."

The meal passed slowly. She nibbled at her food, trying to ignore her husband's concerned glances even though a part of her rejoiced in his attention. It felt good.

It felt real.

"Arnav-ji, the _sari_ you gifted Khushi is gorgeous."

Jiji's voice startled Khushi as she picked her sandwich apart. She looked up in time to see Arnav-ji smile.

"No," he shook his head, "It's a nice _sari_. It's Khushi who makes it look ... not bad."

"Not bad?" Jija-ji laughed, looking between the two of them, "Khushi-ji, don't mind him, he's just being —"

"—Rude," Khushi finished, "Typical _Laad Governor_. Jiji, how is your food?"

Her sister stifled her laughter before speaking, "Delicious. Aakash said that we should get cakes for dessert."

"And _jalebi_ ," Arnav-ji quipped.

Khushi felt her pulse stutter in response to the smile he threw in her direction. She curled her fingers in her lap to prevent her hand from reaching for his under the table.

 _Oh, Devi Maiyya._

The arrival of dessert — two slices of cake and a small plate of _jalebi_ — a short while later provided a welcome distraction.

Arnav-ji pushed the _jalebi_ towards her, "Eat."

He sighed when she only managed a small bite and scraped his chair back, leaving to settle their bill. They all stood as he returned. He slid an arm around her as he came to stand at her side, causing her to jump, but he only winked before speaking to the others.

"I've called Lalit, he's waiting behind the café."

"Where is your car?" Jiji asked.

"I parked behind the building," Arnav-ji answered, gesturing towards a small door behind them, "We can go that way."

Aakash-ji held Jiji's hand to lead her away, but Arnav-ji's fingers tightened at Khushi's waist when she made to follow.

"Let's give them some privacy," he stared contemplatively after them, "Aakash wants to discuss a honeymoon with her."

"Hon-honeymoon?"

"Hmm."

He guided her gently, his hand still at her waist, and she felt a thrill go through her with every step they took.

"I have to tell you something," she spoke to break their silence.

"What?"

In the hours between speaking to Anjali-ji in the storeroom and sitting in the car with Lalit-ji, she'd realised that Arnav-ji needed to know about all her dealings with Shyam-ji, no matter how innocent or small.

"Yesterday ... after I made the _kheer_ ..."

If he knew, it couldn't be used against him. If he knew, it may allay the fears in his heart.

 _If he knew, it might make it easier to trust me._

"When I was at the office?" he prompted after a short silence.

Words kept getting lost on the way to her tongue. Khushi was distracted by the warmth of his hand, so much so that she slipped as they walked. His hand slid under her _pallu_ , the sensation at once foreign and familiar. Electricity flooded her, zipping along her veins and warming her in a rush. And when she took a deep breath, intending to step away from his touch, her traitorous body leaned towards him instead.

Arnav-ji made a sound of approval deep within his chest.

Lalit-ji had parked his car next to Arnav-ji's, and they joined Jiji and Jija-ji in the space between them.

"Bye," Jiji hugged Aakash-ji again.

He stroked her hair, "I'll see you tonight."

Jiji waved to Arnav-ji as she stepped towards the car, leaving them in relative privacy. Khushi reluctantly broke away from her husband.

"We'll talk tonight?" he asked softly.

They stared at one another, barely aware of Jiji and Aakash-ji as they waited in their separate vehicles. Khushi blinked away, nodding slightly, and watched out of the corner of her eye as he stepped towards his car.

 _"Last night, Chhote proved that he is his father's son."_

She stood with her hand on the door handle, heart hammering as she recalled how much the words had hurt him on the morning after their elopement.

 _No._

She ignored her sister's bewildered cry as she ran around the cars to where Arnav-ji had frozen, seconds from sliding into his seat. He looked up and then took half a step backwards as she slammed into him with a sob.

"Khushi ..."

Her fingers twisted into Arnav-ji's jacket as she huddled against him. He held her loosely, his hands splayed on her back.

"Tell me," he commanded quietly.

Her body shook with another sob.

 _I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry._

"I thought," she spoke in a hush, "it might look strange. Jiji and Jija-ji hugged. I thought ... I thought we should ... for them ..."

"Hmm," he hummed, fingers stilling on her back.

 _I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't mean to ... I would never hurt you._

"I'll ... I'll wait for you tonight," Khushi pressed her eyes closed, inhaling the familiar scent of him.

Another hum as his arms tightened around her, "I'll try to come home early."

And for a moment, she forgot it wasn't real.

 _I love you. I love you._

 _I love you._


	26. Chapter 21: Caught

**Chapter 21: Caught**

* * *

 **Khushi**

"Is everything okay between you and Arnav-ji?"

Jiji's question startled Khushi out of a reverie.

"Huh? Yes, of course," she smiled, "Why do you ask?"

They were in the downstairs sitting area, perched on a couch as they inspected the _Holi_ things spread between them. Anjali-ji was outside, overseeing the preparations. A festival mood was in the air.

Jiji fiddled with the packets of coloured powder the vendor had left with them, "I just thought ... you two seemed ..."

"You know how he is," Khushi pretended to grimace, "He's the _Laad Governor._ "

"When did you fall in love with him, Khushi? You always disliked him so much."

"When did you fall in love with Aakash-ji?" she deflected, trying her best to ignore her blush.

Jiji contemplated her pile of colours, "I don't know exactly when. Maybe there was something from the first meeting itself."

"On _Teej_?"

"No. Before that. We met at the marketplace," Jiji giggled, lost in some memory, "His car was causing havoc and I yelled at him."

Her sister grabbed her arm, "To think, Khushi, that I married him!"

"He loves you very much, Jiji," Khushi smiled.

"And yours?"

"He's nice enough."

"Nice enough?"

"Fine," Khushi huffed, blushing again, "He's very nice."

The vendor returned with some water guns as a memory surfaced - Arnav-ji at the hospital, hoping to leave unnoticed after paying Babu-ji's bills.

"Very kind," she continued absently, "Almost ... almost too kind."

"Is that why you call me ' _Laad Governor'_?"

Khushi sprang up with a gasp, her wide eyes finding her husband's frame as he stood in the entrance hall. Arnav-ji seemed to smile as he strode forward and handed Hari Prakash-ji his laptop bag before coming to stand between the sofas. His eyebrow rose as he cast his eye over the packets of powder scattered across the coffee table.

"It's _Holi_ tomorrow," Khushi answered his unspoken question.

"That will be 650 rupees for all of this," the vendor said.

Stepping forward, Arnav-ji handed over a small bundle of cash, "Keep the change."

The other man stared at the money before quickly pocketing it, and Khushi was reminded of the time he'd paid 500 Rs for 10 Rs of _channa_ by the roadside.

"Payal, did you get everything you need?"

Aakash-ji joined them, stepping around a sofa to stand next to Jiji.

"Yes."

Khushi watched her sister take Aakash-ji's coat with a smile. Jealousy twinged inside her as she noted how they stood - so close that his shirt brushed her shoulder.

"And you, Khushi-ji?"

Khushi was distracted from answering when her husband stepped away. She watched his retreating figure with a heaviness in her heart, but he paused on the first step and turned.

"Khushi. Come upstairs, I want to talk to you."

She refused to glance at her sister and brother-in-law as she followed, cheeks heating with embarrassment and indignation.

 _How dare he summon me like one of his servants, especially in front of my Jiji and Jija-ji!_

By the time they reached his bedroom she was convinced that she'd been horribly wronged, and confronted him the moment the doors were shut behind her.

"What are you doing!?"

"Lower your voice!" he growled.

Khushi glanced at the door before stepping forward, "What are you doing? How dare you!?"

"How many times have I told you not to speak to me like that?"

"I'll speak to you however I want!"

"Khushi, I'm warning you!"

"How could you? You _summoned_ me. I am your _wife_ , not your servant."

Arnav-ji blinked, "What?"

"I'm not your—"

"—You've been trying to talk to me all day. I told you I'd come home early so we could talk," he interrupted.

 _Oh._

"You wanted to talk," he continued, "so talk."

Embarrassment chased away the last of her anger as Khushi recalled exactly what she'd been trying to tell him.

 _Oh Devi Maiyya, give me strength._

"Sit down," she suggested, and waited until he complied with a bewildered frown before continuing, "I have to tell you something."

" _I know_ ," he slipped into English.

"I ... you see ..." she clasped and unclasped her hands in front of her as she struggled with the words she'd rehearsed all day, "When you went to the office yesterday, I was in the ... the ki-kitchen ... and ..."

"... And ... " Arnav-ji prompted after a short silence.

"A-a-and I was m-making _jalebi_ ... Sh-Shyam-ji came into the kitchen to t-talk to m-me."

She noted, with some alarm, that her husband had become absolutely still. The memory of Shyam-ji's hands on her shoulders on the terrace, of his arms around her, made her shiver with revulsion. Her vision blurred with tears.

"He said things ... he asked if you forced ... forced me to m-marry you. I s-said n-no. Then he tried ... he tried to hold my h-hand."

Arnav-ji stood with a curse, hauling the sliding door open before stepping out to the poolside. Khushi watched as he paced, his movements rough and unrestrained as he tore a hand through his hair. She took a few hesitant steps towards the poolside doors before sinking onto the now-vacant sofa. Her heart twisted as she witnessed his anger.

 _Is he angry with me as well as with Shyam-ji?_

In the short time that she'd known him, Khushi had come to understand one thing about the man who was now her husband: Arnav-ji preferred distance. She'd witnessed him storm out of his home and office on countless occasions, often leaving his family or herself in tears, and suspected that it had to do with control.

Control, she knew, was everything to him.

And yet he'd stayed here, within easy reach, and she hoped it meant that he didn't blame her for what had happened.

Lost in her thoughts, Khushi didn't realise that he'd stepped back inside until he closed the sliding door to keep out the rapidly cooling evening air.

"Come here," he spoke as she stood.

Her heart hammered as she complied. He held out his hand, and she slid her trembling fingers across his palm when she was close enough.

"Did he touch you?" though he spoke softly, her husband's voice was roughened with some emotion she couldn't identify.

"I ... I didn't let him."

"Good."

"And you ... you're okay?" she asked.

Arnav-ji gave a small nod, running his fingers over her wrist before releasing her. He turned to the now-shadowy poolside.

"Anything else?"

"Uhh ..." Khushi tried to catch her breath, "Breakfast this morning. He ... he said you gave me this _sari_ because we fought."

"Like I said," his eyes traced up and down her body as the corner of his mouth tilted in a smirk, "Not bad."

Her eyes found the floor, cheeks heating, "I'll ... I'll go ..."

Her breath left her in a sigh as she turned to the door. A warm hand closed around her wrist. Arnav-ji gave a sharp tug so that she landed on his chest with a gasp, her hair flying about her and sliding down his suit in a caress. Khushi stared up at him, her gaze slipping from his eyes to his mouth and then back up.

"Will you answer a question?" her husband's question was so soft that she leaned in to hear him.

 _Hai Devi Maiyya, what will I say if he asks why I was so nervous at lunch?_

Fear quickened her pulse as she looked away. Her voice trembled when she responded.

"On-only if you answer one as well."

Arnav-ji opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head as if reconsidering. He spoke after a few moments of silence.

"Are you hungry? You barely ate at lunch."

This was not, she was acutely aware, the question he'd intended to ask. But she couldn't help but be grateful that he'd decided not to press her about her odd behaviour.

Khushi's tummy chose that moment to give a loud growl. She blushed crimson, mortified, as Arnav-ji gave a low chuckle.

"Come, let's go downstairs."


	27. Chapter 22: Colours

**Chapter 22: Colours**

* * *

 **Khushi**

"You talk."

"Huh?" Khushi blinked sleep from her eyes, trying to focus on the form of her husband where he sprawled on his bed.

"You talk in your sleep. I've hardly slept for the last half an hour!"

She blushed, fiddling with a curl of hair as she avoided his gaze. His sheets rustled as he shifted so they had a clearer view of each other.

"What did I say?" she asked after a short pause.

Arnav-ji tucked an arm behind his head with a contemplative hum, "Your family. _Holi_. Something about _jalebi_."

His voice — low and rough and thick with sleep — caused her pulse to skitter.

"Sorry."

Arnav-ji sat up with a sigh. His hair was in disarray and he needed a shave, but the only thought in her mind was that he was the most handsome man in all of existence. Khushi forced her gaze to remain on his face, though she knew he wore a white shirt that made him look ...

 _Oh Devi Maiyya!_

"I was thinking of the colours I would use for _Holi_ this year," she tried to explain, "Green for Amma and Babu-ji, orange for Bua-ji, blue for Jiji and yellow for ..."

"Yellow for you, I know."

Something about the way he looked at her, his eyes warm and his mouth tilted into a ghost of a smile, made her brave.

"Do you want to know which colour I would use for you?"

"Which one?" he frowned.

Standing, she deftly rolled up her blanket and placed it on the sofa before taking a few steps towards the bathroom. She paused just long enough to shout her answer in his direction.

"Black!"

Khushi bolted, but he was quicker. Arnav-ji rolled across the bed in a flash and intercepted her at the bathroom door. His grip was strong and sure as he picked her up and swung her around with a chuckle.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing!" she giggled, struggling against him half-heartedly, "I didn't say anything."

"Oh, yeah?" he breathed, his lips brushing her ear.

She shivered against him. His hand slid around her waist, pulling her closer. She turned her head to look at him. His eyes dropped to her mouth.

It happened slowly. The light in his eyes dimmed and his grip loosened. He stepped away. Then he looked down, running a hand through his hair, and she realised that she'd foolishly left her _dupatta_ on the sofa. She held an arm awkwardly across her chest instead.

"I'll b-be late for the _puja_ ," she said softly.

Her husband nodded, allowing her to step into the bathroom with a heavy heart as she wished for something that could never be hers. When she emerged to gather her clothes, she found Arnav-ji standing at his wardrobe, a change of clothes bundled in his hands.

"I'll change. You can shower while I jog."

Khushi nodded, sidestepping him to get to her _basta_ of things.

Sometime later, she traipsed downstairs to help her sister with the morning _puja_. And afterwards, she readied her offering to Devi Maiyya: an entire kilogram of _jalebi_ , made by hand.

Arnav-ji — showered and changed after his jog — stepped out to the poolside area alongside the sitting room just as she was finishing up. Khushi followed after wiping her hands on a towel and found him already absorbed in his plants.

"Arnav-ji."

He turned, his eyes sliding up her figure _oh-so-slowly_ before settling on her face. She tried to suppress the shiver than through her.

"Di organised a surprise for you ..." he spoke softly, "I think ... I think you'll like it. Have ... have fun, I'll see you this afternoon."

He nodded slightly, and if she didn't know better she might have said that he was nervous.

"Will you ..." she licked her lips, "will you play _Holi_ with us?"

A sigh as he adjusted his grip on the garden shears he held, "No."

Disappointment rushed through her as she turned, blinking against the prickle of tears. She hadn't seriously expected him to say yes, but it was still sobering to realise that she wouldn't be celebrating her first _Holi_ after marriage with her husband.

 _But then, both my marriage and my husband are ... unconventional._

She met Mama-ji in the corridor and took the opportunity to ask some pointed and careful questions about Nana-ji. Though clearly confused, he answered her questions in great detail and even blessed her before heading outside to join the revellers. She experienced a sharp pang of longing for Babu-ji.

 _I'll call home after I wish Devi Maiyya._

She bounded towards the stairs after making the offering and engaging in a short, private prayer, but was intercepted by Di.

"Khushi-ji, are you ready to go outside?"

"Almost, Di."

"Well, since you've applied _gulaal_ to Devi Maiyya, shall I apply some to you as well?"

At her words, Khushi thought of the antiquated tradition that the first person to apply _gulaal_ to a married woman should be her husband. Her eyes flicked towards the poolside in vain as she returned with Di to the sitting area. But the other woman's hand was stopped as she reached for the platter.

Shyam-ji. Khushi's pulse quickened as he dipped three fingers in the red powder.

"I want to welcome the newest member of our household with his _gulaal_ ," he smiled at his wife.

Di nodded, stepping aside, and grinned as Shyam-ji strode forward. Khushi forced herself to remain still.

 _Arnav-ji_ , she called out silently.

Her fear heightened when she noted the way the _gulaal_ clung to Shyam-ji's fingers, looking uncomfortably like _sindoor_.

Or blood.

She looked up at him, finding nothing but smug satisfaction in his eyes, and stood frozen as his hand inched closer and closer to her cheek.

"I think my phone is ringing," she blurted, "I must have left it ... somewhere ..."

Khushi ignored Di's startled cry as she fled, hurrying through the front doors and onto the grounds of the estate. The sun shone brightly on row upon row of pavilions, some filled with entertainment and others with food. Every available surface had been given over to colours.

It was beautiful.

As she came to a stop, clutching her side and panting, she noted three familiar figures in the distance.

"Amma? Babu-ji? Bua-ji?"

She ran to them and was immediately engulfed in a warm embrace.

"Amma! What are you doing here?"

"Anjali- _bitiya_ invited us. Although it's traditional for a newly-wed couple to celebrate their first _Holi_ at the bride's home, this seems ... better."

 _"Di organised a surprise for you ... I think ... I think you'll like it."_

Khushi hugged her mother again, "I'm so glad you decided to come."

"Amma! Bua-ji!" Jiji hurried up to them, trailed by Aakash-ji, "What a wonderful surprise!"

She watched as Jiji and Jija-ji bowed in tandem and a wave of longing gripped her as her parents blessed them and their union. She stepped up to touch Babu-ji's feet when it was her turn, fighting her sudden melancholy. She opened them at her mother's soft gasp.

A hand had appeared next to hers. Long, golden fingers, a strong wrist, forearm covered by the rolled back sleeve of a white shirt. Powerful shoulders, stubble, eyes that were currently watching her with something that looked like trepidation.

 _Arnav-ji!_

Her heart sang.


	28. Chapter 23: Chhote

**Chapter 23: Chhote**

* * *

 **Khushi**

" _Babua_ , this party is just so grand!" Bua-ji gushed, gesturing appreciatively at the organised chaos surrounding them, "Do you host it every year?"

"Di hosts it every year," Arnav-ji replied softly, "I only supply the grounds."

"Ahh, and here she is!"

Anjali-ji — _No, Di!_ — joined their small circle and exchanged greetings with the elders. She held a hand protectively over her belly.

"Chhote!" Di studied her brother with exaggerated concern, "Have you taken ill? What are you doing?"

Arnav-ji leaned away as she tried to take his temperature, "Di!"

"You must be very sick," Di giggled, "I thought you'd spend the day inside, as always."

"It's not like ..."

"No," his sister grinned, "I see how it is. A new bride, new in-laws, new Chhote."

Laughter rippled through their audience as Arnav-ji grimaced. Di enveloped them both in a warm embrace, "This is your first _Holi_ with us, Khushi-ji, I'm very happy Chhote is with you."

It was only when Di had turned her attention to Jiji and Jija-ji that Arnav-ji spoke directly to Khushi.

"Khushi, are you okay?"

"Yes," Khushi replied in undertone, using the sleeve of his shirt to guide him a few steps away, "Why are you ... I mean ... you said ..."

"Your phone is in the bedroom, charging where you left it."

Her confused question died on her lips as she remembered the excuse she'd used to escape from Shyam-ji.

"You heard?"

"I saw," her husband corrected, "and I will not allow him near you."

A burst of relief swept through her at his words.

"Arnav-ji ... I ..."

"Nani!" Anjali-ji's happy call diverted Khushi's attention to where Nani-ji stood, speaking to some of her guests, "Let's go, she'll be very happy to see that you all came."

Arnav-ji started to follow Di across the grounds.

"I'll see you later," Khushi waved.

"What?"

"I have a surprise for Nani-ji. I think she'll like it."

#####

"Khushi- _bitiya_ , Bua-ji has named you aptly: _Sanka Devi_."

Khushi stood, still dressed in the men's _kurta_ and holding a fake moustache, and engulfed the other woman in a hug.

"That's enough," Nani-ji wiped her tears, "Enough crying. We're going to play _Holi_. But look, your face remains bare even though your clothes are coloured!"

"Yes, yes _saasu-ma_!" Mami-ji shouted with glee, "Drown this Phati Sari in colours!"

Khushi squealed, trying to break free of Nani-ji's unexpectedly strong grip, "No, no Nani-ji!"

"You're absolutely right, Nani-ji!" Khushi froze as the hated voice drifted to her, "it won't do for her to celebrate Holi without colours."

Khushi's heart hammered as Shyam-ji strode confidently towards her, menace in every step. Her legs felt suddenly weak as he snatched a platter of powder from a nearby table. Red again, and this time she knew it was no accident. It was a message that only she could understand. Revulsion and fear coursed in her veins, mingled with disbelief that he would try this here, in front of both their families.

But then, who would suspect the gesture for anything other than what it seemed — the beloved _damaad_ of the household graciously welcoming its eldest _bahu_ in the absence of a father-in-law?

Panic unfurled within Khushi as Shyam-ji dipped his fingers in the powder, "No, Nani-ji, I don't want—"

"—You'll have to, _bitiya_. It's not right if everyone else has colour and you don't."

"But—"

"Khushi-ji."

She turned to her tormentor with a prayer on her lips, watching his red-stained hand as it inched towards her. Khushi closed her eyes, leaning away and trying to make herself as small as possible, and awaited his hated touch.

It never came.

After a few agonising moments, she opened her eyes to find that someone now stood between herself and Shyam-ji. Arnav-ji, whom she'd noticed standing on the other side of the gathering as she'd danced, shielded her from their Jija-ji. Breathing a sigh of relief, Khushi stepped closer to the protection he offered.

"I'll do it Jija-ji", his voice, though soft, was edged with a warning, "I'll apply _gulaal_ to Khushi. I am her husband after all."

Her breath stalled and pulse raced anew. Hope dared to bloom in her heart.

 _"I am her husband after all."_

Turning, he streaked the red powder across her cheek without fanfare, and she was unable to hide the tremor that wracked her form. His hand was warm. She forced her eyes to remain open as he repeated the action on the other side of her face, and saw that his gaze softened with some emotion she couldn't read.

His eyes held her captive as her heart seemed to drown.

"Chhote?" Di stepped forward, "But you never play _Holi_ with us!"

"Well, there are many things Chhote used to do, and now doesn't do, after his marriage to this Phati Sari," interjected Mami-ji, "a complete turn over!"

"Make-over, Ma," Jija-ji corrected with affection, "Make-over."

"Khushi- _bitiya_ , won't you apply colour to Chhote?"

Startled, Khushi looked at the man in question. He shook his head slightly.

"Nani-ji, he doesn't want—"

"—Not everyone is lucky enough to apply colour to Chhote," Di smiled, "but I'm sure he'll allow his wife."

Uncomfortably aware that Shyam-ji still stood a few feet away, Khushi approached her husband. It suddenly seemed like the most intimate of things to apply colour to him in front of such a crowd. Di offered the platter of powder with a grin.

When she turned to him, her eyes desperately seeking the permission her lips could not ask for, he gave a small shrug of acquiescence. He was not happy but he was not opposed either. He seemed resigned.

In all their time together, Khushi could count the number of times she'd touched his face on one hand. His stubble tickled. His chest rose and fell sharply as he seemed to lean into her touch. Colour bloomed across her cheeks to match the powder now streaked on his. It was over before she was ready for it to be.

" _Rani Sahiba_!"

Khushi watched the warmth leech from her husband's eyes. She hadn't realised how relaxed he'd been until she saw the tension return to his shoulders and neck. Shyam-ji seemed to have rallied after his momentary defeat.

" _Rani Sahiba_ , didn't you have something for _Saale-Sahib_ and Khushi-ji?"

"Oh yes, Khushi-ji I have something for you!" Di turned to lift two tall copper glasses from the tray that Hari Prakash-ji held, " _Thandai_ , for my _bhaiyya_ and _bhabhi_."

"No," Arnav-ji's tone was sharp.

"No, thank you, Anj—Di."

"Come on," Di pouted, "for me ... and if not for me, then for the tiny life who is celebrating her first _Holi_ with us."

At this mention of his unborn niece, Arnav-ji sighed and reached for the glass closest to him. Khushi only followed suit when she'd caught his eye and received a small nod of reassurance.

"This is not _bhaang_?" Arnav-ji asked warily.

"Don't you trust your Di, Chhote?" Di grinned, "And you, Khushi-ji, don't you trust your _nannad_?"

"I do," Khushi reassured her sister-in-law, "Look, I'm drinking it."

She downed the entire glass, some part of her eager to show Di that she _did_ trust her, and glanced at Arnav-ji when she finished. He held out his empty glass for his sister to inspect.

Di laughed gleefully, "Oh you shouldn't have trusted your Di, Chhote, and you shouldn't have trusted your _nannad_ , Khushi-ji."

"What!?"

"It was _bhaang_?!"

"Yes," Di giggled, "Have fun!"

Khushi turned to her husband, aghast, as he hiccuped in shock.

 _Oh no. Devi Maiyya please help us!_


	29. Chapter 24: Clarity

**Chapter 24: Clarity**

* * *

 **Khushi**

"Khushi! Come back here!"

"No. No. No!"

Khushi wove a path through the revellers, trying to avoid her husband as he chased her.

"You said that I could have one more!"

"I did not!"

"Yes. Yes. Yes!"

"Khushi, careful!"

She skidded to a messy stop next to a table laden with copper glasses filled with either _thandai_ or _bhaang_.

"One more!" she pleaded with her scowling husband when he caught up.

 _He looks so handsome, in that white shirt and jeans._

"Thank you," Arnav-ji smirked.

"Haw! Did I say that out loud!?"

"Yes," he grinned, "Now come here, you've had enough _bhaang_."

"Arnav-ji," Khushi offered him a glass, "Drink some with me."

"No."

"Drink. Please?"

Taking the glass without comment, he downed it entirely in one smooth motion. Khushi sipped at her own glass, watching as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Heat flared in her belly.

"Happy?" he asked.

She nodded energetically, allowing him to guide her through the crowds to where Di and Nani-ji stood.

Di smiled at them both, "It's nice to see you two like this."

Arnav-ji swayed a little and Khushi stumbled as he leaned heavily on her. They both laughed as they regained their balance. He held her closer.

"She liked the surprise," he said conspiratorially to his sister, "Thank you for organising it."

Khushi felt a jolt of surprise, "Arnav-ji! _You_ invited my family?"

"Shh!" he leaned towards Di, "Don't tell her!"

"He was worried that you missed your family," Di patted Arnav-ji affectionately on the cheek, "Chhote, this year you've played Holi and drunk _bhaang_. All that's left is for you to dance."

"No," he shook his head, "I don't dance."

"But I do!" Khushi crowed.

She disentangled herself from her husband to join the dancers, waving her arms to the beat of the drums. She was soon joined by Amma, Bua-ji and Jiji. Giggling as Jija-ji swung Jiji around, Khushi looked around and saw that Arnav-ji was watching her, one arm around Di and the other around Nani-ji. They giggled as he said something to them. Then he stepped forward, weaving unsteadily as he drank another glass of _bhaang_ , and came to stand with her.

Khushi was immediately lost in the dark honey of his eyes. She gripped his shirt to retain her balance when he pulled her closer. He smiled that small smile of his. Memories bombarded her - the way he'd held her as they'd danced on stage, the way he'd leaned in to kiss her on Diwali, the way he'd returned her _payal_. She leaned into him. He dipped his head.

One of the dancers bumped into Khushi, reminding her where they were and causing a blush to rise to her cheeks as she released her husband with some reluctance. But then Arnav-ji spun her around, a smile on his lips and a question in his eyes. She grinned in return.

 _He wants me to dance._

So she did.

The two families danced together as Arnav-ji pulled Di and Nani-ji into the crowd. Bua-ji pretended to smack the ground with her plait. Jija-ji used a _dupatta_ to pull Jiji close. Nanhe-ji led Di in slow circles. Mami-ji pretended to play the guitar as Mama-ji danced with a glass on his head. Khushi danced _bhangra_ with her sister.

And Arnav-ji _danced_ , his body moving against hers, his hand on her waist, refusing to leave her side for more than a few minutes at a time. She watched his family surround him in a giant hug before her own enveloped her. Happiness flooded her heart when she noticed him hugging his sister.

Watching Mami and Bua-ji fight over a water-gun, Khushi felt suddenly thirsty. She wove her way through the revellers, looking for some water.

A hand wrapped around hers.

"Arnav—"

But to her horror, it was Shyam-ji who held her and not her husband.

"Let me go!"

Shyam-ji seemed immune to her struggles as he pulled her through the crowd.

"No, Khushi-ji, you have to tell me the truth!" he pushed her against a tree, "You didn't want to marry Arnav. Tell me what happened."

"No!" she said petulantly, "I won't say anything! Especially to a bad man like you!"

Shock sharpened her senses as he cupped her face, "Khushi-ji, tell me why you agreed to marry him, and so suddenly!"

"He's my husband," she declared, stepping out of his reach, "We're married. That's all. And don't ... don't touch me like that!"

"Okay," Shyam-ji grit his teeth, "I'm not touching you. But tell me, _why_ did you marry him?"

"Because I wanted to," Khushi answered simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "because he's ..."

 _Mine_.

She fell into memories. His stare on the night of the photoshoot, that first apology in the gazebo, the kiss by the poolside. His intensity on Diwali. His pain when she'd revealed her engagement. His humility when he'd posed as a waiter.

"What did you tell him about us?" Shyam-ji jolted her back to the present.

"The truth."

"And he believed you?"

"N-no. He ... he didn't," she said glumly, "He still doesn't."

Oddly, the admission seemed to please Shyam-ji. But the beginnings of his slow, slimy smile disappeared as he caught sight of something behind her. He turned his heel and left without a word, leaving Khushi to scan the crowd with a frown until she spotted the familiar form of her husband.

"Arnav-ji!" she waved happily, "You found me!"

"Do you know how worried I was?!" his hands came up to cup her face, "Next time, tell me where you're going."

She curled her fingers into his shirt as the world seemed to spin, "Why?"

"So I can keep you safe, dammit!"

"I have to tell you ... tell you something," her words came out slurred.

"You've drunk too much _bhaang_. Let's go, we'll sit down."

Arnav-ji led her to a part of the estate that she'd never seen. A gazebo stood in front of her, surrounded by immaculate gardens and decorated with marigolds and mirrors and bright sashes. It was empty.

"I have to tell you ... tell you something," Khushi repeated.

Some powder flew into her eye, kicked up by her husband as he turned to face her, and she squealed.

"Ow!" she rubbed it gingerly.

She felt more than saw Arnav-ji step forward. He held her hand by the wrist and guided it away from her eye. His fingers were slightly cool. Khushi trembled as he brushed her hair away from her face before leaning in. Her heart pounded so fast in her chest that it was almost painful. He blew gently, holding her eye open with his thumb, and her knees seemed suddenly too weak to support her. He smelled of earth and wood and leather, frowning in concentration as he focussed on his task.

There had been another time, almost a lifetime ago, when they had been as they were now. A stolen moment, brief and bright, when she'd borrowed dirt from his potted plants and gotten some in her eye. He'd been so gentle, so concerned. Her husband refocussed on her, and she knew instinctively that he'd thought of the same moment. His hand froze next to her head. Her heart grew heavy with loss and a yearning for a simpler time when she'd still been so full of hope.

The words she'd confessed to Shyam-ji came back to her.

 _Why won't he just believe me?_

She felt the prickle of tears.

 _Why can't it be real?_

Suddenly overwhelmed, Khushi moved his hand aside and turned away, trying to still the rapid thunder of her heart. Her lungs didn't seem to want to cooperate with her, especially not with Arnav-ji staring at her so intently. She pursed her lips together to contain a sob. Her thoughts tangled in confusion.

And then panic unfurled in her tummy when Arnav-ji started to walk away.

He couldn't leave, not when she was so full of questions.

Not when she was so full of love.

She reached out, trapping his hand in hers, and waited.


	30. Chapter 25: Candid

**Chapter 25: Candid**

* * *

 **Khushi**

Khushi slipped her hand into her husband's, at once feeling powerful and unexpectedly weakened by the way he instantly froze.

 _"You understand that this is not real?"_

For a few agonizing, heart-stopping moments, she thought he would refuse to stay.

What right did she have to ask this of him? To ask _anything_ of him?

But Arnav-ji turned, his eyes first finding where his hand was trapped in hers before lifting to her face. Only then did she approach him on unsteady feet, trying to read the sudden emotion in his eyes. Her pulse quickened as she was gripped by a sudden urge to step into his arms. To hold him and allow the steady rhythm of his heart to ease her confusion.

Some far-away part of her warned that it was a bad idea — though it couldn't tell her why — so Khushi instead placed her hands over the marks she'd left earlier on his cheeks. She forced air into her lungs as her will threatened to crumble when heat flared in his eyes.

"I have to ask you something, Arnav-ji."

She was glad that her voice did not shake.

 _Why don't you love me?_

Her vision blurred with tears. The knowledge that she couldn't hold him guided her hands down until she could clasp his hand and hold it against her heart.

"Will you answer a question?"

 _Why do I still love you?_

Some distant part of her noted the feel of his hand against her heated skin. That same part of her whispered that it was — perhaps — not entirely appropriate to hold him so.

But this was her husband — the man she loved — and if not him, _then whom_?

"Why is it," she began, "that whenever you're near ... my heart beats faster?"

He swallowed.

"I tried so hard to understand it. But I couldn't understand."

Her breath hitched.

"I want to forget, but I can't forget."

He blinked, breathing deeply.

"Why does this happen?"

He seemed on the verge of speaking. He slid his hand out of her grip. Khushi's careful attempt at control shattered when he cupped her face, relief and love and desire finding expression in an almost violent sob. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, trying to steady herself as his face seemed to blur.

"Tell me," she implored as his fingers trembled on her skin, "why does this happen? My pulse ... races faster than my breath."

She blinked slowly, struggling to bring him into focus. The world darkened briefly before brightening again.

 _Arnav-ji._

Her mouth couldn't form his name. The feeling left her legs. Her eyelids drooped.

#####

 _Tickles._

Waking felt as though she were rising from a deep lake. Sleep fell off her in waves and rivulets until she could blink her eyes open. Arnav-ji's face swam into reluctant focus. The hand that had been caressing her briefly blocked her view of him as he removed it and the emotion that had gradually crept up on her over the past year grew in intensity until she could scarcely draw breath. It was warm and golden and perfect.

Love.

Arnav-ji watched her carefully — stared, actually — as she thought of how they'd come to be here. The _dargah_ , the scooter accident, the photoshoot, the carpark. And she remembered that she still needed something from him.

"Arnav-ji, you still haven't answered my question," she complained, quite forgetting that she'd been asleep moments before, "You owe me one answer from the other day."

Her husband shook his head, shifting to wipe a tear she hadn't noticed rolling down her cheek, and then spoke in a deep rumble.

"I'll tell you why this happens."

A few strands of his hair had escaped the hold of his gel and now fell against his forehead. Arnav-ji took her hand and laid it, palm flat, against his chest. Over his heart. All the air left her lungs as she looked at where she was _touching_ him. And though she could feel the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, though she thought she could feel the beat of his heart, she found it hard to believe that he was allowing this.

"When you're near me," he said, and she lifted her eyes to his, "then along with your heartbeat, my heartbeat races too."

 _Oh?_

 _Oh._

"Our heartbeats become one. What you feel is what I feel."

Still, she needed to confirm, "Our heartbeats ..."

"... become one," he finished.

It seemed that all the tension had left her body, leaving it light and free for the first time since he'd taken her to the poolside and demanded that she leave. Arnav-ji tightened his grip when her fingers trembled against his chest. The thumb of his other hand stroked across her cheek, so tender and gentle that it almost brought tears to her eyes yet again.

Because finally, _finally_ , her Rajkumar had returned to her.

"Come," he said a few minutes later, tugging her so she joined him on the tiled edge of the pool.

Then he continued to stare as she, suddenly shy, allowed her gaze to slip from his eyes to his lips and further down. Khushi tried to stand up, vaguely recalling that something about this wasn't a good idea but looked down at a sharp tug. Arnav-ji still held her hand.

He shook his head when she looked up in surprise, causing a tentative smile to stretch across her lips.

 _He doesn't want me to leave._

Happiness burned brightly within her at the realisation. Khushi leaned forward until she could rest her head on his shoulder and covered their still-joined hands with her free one. He was warm and solid and real. She closed her eyes. When Arnav-ji shifted, sliding his hand across her shoulder to hold her closer, she thought her heart would explode with joy. She swivelled so she could look at him, noting that he dipped his head at the same time, and then ...

 _Hai Devi Maiyya, he's so close._

A tremble, half fear and half anticipation, shook her as his soft exhalations tickled her fringe. They had been here too, hadn't they?

When Khushi's gaze slipped - _again_ \- to his lips, they curled into a smile.

"You make me hungry," she said absently.

His reply — low, rough, and intimate — caused her tummy to swoop low, "I make you hungry?"

"Not ..." she tried to explain, "Not for food ..."

 _For you._

"But that makes no sense," she finished with a sigh.

She looked up, but there was no anger or surprise in his eyes. Only a gentler version of what had been there on Diwali.

Arnav-ji leaned towards her, "It makes sense."

She stretched upwards.

"Chhote?"

Khushi jerked away, a combination of embarrassment and fear pumping through her veins, but Arnav-ji refused to let go. He shook his head as a silent plea shone in his eyes.

"Chhote," Di called through the closed doors, "Bring Khushi-ji downstairs. The pickled lemon will cut through the high of the _bhaang_. Hurry, okay?"

Resting a hand on his knee, she tried to reason with her husband, "Pickled lemons."

Although he sighed and grimaced moodily, Arnav-ji stood and pulled her up. Khushi happily wound her hands around his bicep as they walked, but stopped unsteadily at the doors.

" _Dupatta_?" she questioned.

"Khushi," he husband turned, "let's go."

Her mind would replay the way he'd spoken those words in the darkest hours of the next few nights, but now, she struggled to find the words to explain.

"My ... " her arms wheeled, "that is ... my _dupatta_ ..."

Squinting as she turned, Khushi spotted the cloth on the ground by the pool, "There it is!"

But as she took a few steps towards the poolside, she noticed that Arnav-ji hadn't moved.

"Why have you stopped? You go," she suggested good-naturedly, "I'll catch up. That ... whatever it is ... I'll get it and come."

"No," he crossed his arms, "I'll wait."

Emotion surged in her heart again.

"For whom?" she asked softly, teasing, "For my heartbeat?"

Arnav-ji smiled her favourite smile, "I'm waiting."

She hurried as best as she could, stumbling to the poolside to collect her fallen _dupatta_ before rejoining him. He was with his sister.

"Chhote, where's Khushi-ji?"

Khushi began to speak but fell silent at the look of intense concentration on her husband's features. She suppressed a giggle as he answered.

"In the _dupatta_."

Di patted his cheek affectionately, further smearing the red powder streaked there, and turned. "Oh, Khushi-ji! I was just coming to get you."

"There she is," Arnav-ji brightened as he spotted her, "My Khu-shi."

Di giggled, "Neither of you should ever have _bhaang_! Hurry and go downstairs, both of you. Eat the pickled lemon quickly, please."

She waved her hands impatiently when they didn't move, pushing them towards one another, "Hurry, hurry!"

"Let's go," Arnav-ji offered his arm.

Di's smile widened into a grin as Khushi wrapped her hands around his bicep once more. She waved goodbye as they set off down the corridor.

 _"What did you tell him about us?"_

 _"The truth."_

 _"And he believed you?"_

 _"N-no. He ... he didn't. He still doesn't."_

 _"My Khushi."_

"Arnav-ji?" her voice trembled with emotion.

"What happened?" he stopped, cupping her face with one hand as his brow furrowed with concern, "Khushi?"

But her thoughts slipped away like water.

"Lemon," she eventually managed, "pickled lemon?"

"Let's go," he said again, offering his arm with a smile, and Khushi held him tightly as they entered the room his family optimistically called the study.

"Khushi, come!" Jiji tugged at her, but she didn't release Arnav-ji until he nodded at her in reassurance. He took a seat next to Mama-ji as she settled on a chair on the other side of the room.

Silence fell as Jiji passed around a tray of pickled lemon. Mami-ji yawned. Jiji and Aakash-ji squirmed as they sucked on the sour lemons. Nanhe-ji mischievously mimed throwing a piece of lemon into Mami-ji's hair. Khushi winced as she sucked on her piece, making a face that her husband smiled at. Di watched over everyone benevolently.

Her mind began to clear almost instantly; clarity returning to her as a fog seemed to lift. The heaviness that had been her constant companion for the last five days made itself known in the pit of her tummy. Arnav-ji's smile faded away.

 _Oh Devi Maiyya, what did we do?!_

Embarrassment curled within her, and oddly, she was glad when he looked away first.

"Listen up," Di stood, "We're lucky this year that we had NK-Bhai's camera to document _Holi_. So, ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present to you ... my Chhote!"

Arnav-ji, moments from sneaking away — not that Khushi was watching — froze.

"New and improved!" Di grinned before reaching for the remote, "One minute! Watch!"

And there they were, in full colour and high definition. Khushi watched her own eyes close as Arnav-ji streaked _gulaal_ on her cheek. She remembered, too vividly, the tremour that had gone through her at the touch. She watched Arnav-ji lean into her hand, registering anew the sudden flare of emotion in his eyes. She watched him drink _bhaang_ , watched as he danced with her, watched their families hug. Her eyes turned to him, almost without permission, just as he lifted his head to look at her.

He did not look happy.

Worry seeped into her heart.

"So this is the same Chhote who didn't play Holi," Di said gleefully, distracting Khushi, "Never. He didn't drink _bhaang_. Never. Nor did he dance. Never. But now, he does everything, and to _this_ extent!"

"Di, stop it now."

"There's more," Di laughed.

And there was, because Nanhe-ji had apparently found time to edit the footage. On screen, Arnav-ji chased her around the estate.

"What kind of backwards nonsense is happening in this house?" Mama-ji pointed incredulously at the screen, "Look at me; I run from my wife, and look at him; he runs _after_ his wife."

Mami-ji smacked her husband with a bouquet of flowers as everyone laughed uproariously.

"Before, our Arnav- _bitwa_ was like an art _philum_ ; without songs and dancing," she explained, "But with _bhaang_ , he's become like a super-hit _philum_ with dancing and songs, hello, hi, bye-bye!"

Khushi exchanged another look with her husband, feeling the comparison was unfair. Fear quickened her pulse as he looked away again, and she found that it was possible to miss someone even as they sat right in front of you.

"Mama-ji, don't they say that consuming _bhaang_ leads to people saying what's in their heart?" Di was in the mood to poke fun, "Isn't that right, Khushi-ji?"

Khushi reluctantly agreed with a forced smile and prayed for a quick end to the proceedings.

"Di, please just delete this," Arnav-ji was getting angrier.

"Delete it!?" Di's voice rose in disbelief, "Never!"

"Okay, fine," he stood, "I have work. I'm leaving."

"Go, _bitwa_ , go," Mama-ji smiled, "You two have disappeared from the video anyway."

Startled, Khushi turned back to the TV with a nervous swallow to watch everyone dance. She and Arnav-ji were conspicuous in their absence.

"That's right! Where did you two go?"

Khushi swivelled to look at Di just as Arnav-ji froze on the stairs. When he turned, his gaze fell on his sister before it skated to her.

 _"When you're near me, then along with your heartbeat, my heartbeat races too."_

Her heart dropped into her shoes as he grimaced, but still she tracked his progress up the stairs until he disappeared. When she looked away, twisting her hands in her lap, she noted that Shyam-ji seethed in his seat. She looked away quickly.

Arnav-ji's departure, perhaps predictably, soured Di's mood considerably. The rest of the video passed with barely a comment, and no one except Jiji — and Shyam-ji — seemed to notice when Khushi quietly excused herself at the end. She walked slowly (she didn't want to confront him) then sped up (she needed to know what was going through his mind) and then slowed down again (but what if he regretted everything?).

In the end, she startled Arnav-ji as he rummaged in the wardrobe, clearly preparing for a shower. He stared. She stared back. He looked down, at the bed, at the small table between them, at the clothes bundled in his hands, and still she stared. He looked out onto the poolside. She followed his gaze to the sun-lounger she'd occupied not an hour ago. A washcloth, stained red, sat on the table, kept company by a bowl and a jug, both filled with water.

 _"Our heartbeats become one. What you feel is what I feel."_

Khushi opened her mouth, a question on the tip of her tongue, but he surprised her by speaking first. "Do you remember anything?"

She stilled. For the first time, almost since they'd met, Arnav-ji hadn't provided a hint as to what he wanted her to do. His expression gave nothing away.

 _What does he want? Oh Devi Maiyya, what does he need me to say?_

She considered as she fiddled with her _dupatta_. Did she admit to her full recollection, sentencing them to awkwardness and half-truths as they navigated the new boundaries of this _marriage-that-was-not_? Or would the truth allow them to move forward, finally on the same page about what they meant to one another?

Did she lie and say she remembered nothing, giving him time to come to terms with what he'd hidden from her for so long? For surely, with some effort on her part, he could be persuaded to admit it again. Or would the lie only allow the other half-hidden truths to fester, eating away at whatever progress they made?

 _What does he remember?_

Khushi fretted, aware that he grew more and more impatient as the seconds ticked by. What had the last few days taught her, if not that lying — even with the best of intentions — didn't solve anything? She was tired, she realised, of hiding what she felt.

She would not lie to him again.

"Yes," she directed her words to the carpet near his red-stained shoes, "I remember everything."

 _"When you're near me, then along with your heartbeat, my heartbeat races too."_

 _"Our heartbeats become one. What you feel is what I feel."_

Here she glanced at the poolside, making her meaning clear as she spoke, "And you ... do you ... remember anything?"

Turning as Arnav-ji cleared his throat, she waited as the seconds of silence stretched into minutes. She wondered if he'd felt like this while he'd waited for her answer.

"Yes. I remember."

 _Oh._

Swaying on her feet as relief slammed into her, Khushi took half a step forward as if seeking permission to approach. But Arnav-ji turned and disappeared into the bathroom without another word. She remained where she was, staring at the closed door.

 _But ... what ... what did I do to upset him now?_

She decided to venture into the kitchen to distract herself from the disappointment that made her limbs and heart heavy. Once there, she prepared a quick meal from the breakfast things and, seeing no one else around, ate standing in the kitchen. The thought of her diabetic husband had her fixing a plate for him and carrying it back up the stairs.

She was distracted by the sight of her sister rummaging frantically through the drawers in the study.

"Jiji," Khushi set her burden on a small table, "what are you doing?"

"Maa-ji wants headache pills," Jiji didn't turn around, "and I can't find ... oh, wait ... here it is!"

Her sister pulled out a large box, out of which she began pulling out boxes and tubes and bottles of medicine, and Khushi suddenly remembered something.

"Can you hand me Arnav-ji's pills too?"

"I don't know what they look like," Jiji said uncertainly, "all these pills look the same to me."

It was a testament to her unorthodox introduction into this household that Khushi couldn't identify her husband's medication as she looked over her sister's shoulder. But they were saved by Hari Prakish-ji, who chose that moment to enter the study.

"Hari Prakash-ji! Can you help us find headache pills for Mami-ji? And Arnav-ji's medicine."

The man stepped forward with a smile, "Of course, Khushi- _bhabi_."

 _Bhabhi_.

No matter how many times they said it, her heart still stuttered.

Hari Prakash-ji took a handful of packets from Jiji as he explained, "The headache pills are in this box, see, they're white and round, and two to a row. Arnav- _bhaiya_ 's pills are these ones, they're bigger and there are three to a row."

Khushi listened attentively, even taking the box from Hari Prakash-ji to study it, before thanking him.

"I'll take Arnav-ji his things," she placed the pills on her tray, "Jiji have you eaten?"

"I'll eat after I've taken these to Maa-ji," Jiji waved, "thank you Hari Prakash-ji."

Arnav-ji was buttoning his waistcoat when she returned to the bedroom.

"I brought you some food and your medicine," she set the tray down, "I ate in the kitchen, but I wish I'd waited for Jiji."

She might have been more prepared if she'd been paying attention. But as it was, Khushi was taken completely by surprise when she felt his hand at her elbow. He guided her up until she faced him. She stopped breathing. Her heart hammered as he leaned forward.

She closed her eyes. His hand slid up her arm and behind her head.

 _Oh_.

It was finally happening, and she'd waited for _so long_.

But he only pressed his lips to her forehead before rocking back on his feet.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

She twisted her hand into his shirt, unsure if she was trying to steady herself or hold him closer. Maybe both.

"Are you okay?" he shifted his weight, "You had a lot of _bhaang_ today."

He smiled at her nod, "Okay. Maybe you should get changed?"

Blushing, Khushi moved away from him to fish out an outfit from the _basta_ she kept her things in and then padded to the bathroom, leaving him as he settled on the sofa and uncovered his lunch.

#####

 _It must be almost midnight._

 _He didn't kiss me._

Khushi lay on the sofa, watching her husband sleep on his gigantic bed. He seemed comfortable and content, her opposite in every way.

 _Why would he kiss you?_ her mind questioned.

 _He said he feels what I feel. And I want ..._

Her mind drifted sluggishly, her imagination combining memories of today and Diwali to create an entirely new scenario where he leaned in to kiss her.

 _Twice now, he's almost kissed me ... and twice he's ..._

 _But at least he's not angry or pretending not to remember,_ she reasoned, _and he did kiss me. Sort of._

But not like she wanted him to.

She turned with a huff, her mind skipping from one puzzle to the next. All night she'd been plagued with a nagging feeling that she'd forgotten something, something of great importance, but nothing came to mind no matter how hard she thought.

 _Oh well, if it's important then I'm sure I'll remember again_.

Whatever it was, she felt at once frustrated and guilty when she turned her mind to it.

 _This is impossible._

Twisting her mouth in vexation, she slid off the sofa and shuffled sleepily to the bathroom to wash her hands and face. She studied herself in the mirror, spending a few minutes trying to work out the source of her unrest before padding back to the bedroom.

She crawled into the bed with a yawn, where sleep found her a few minutes later.


	31. Chapter 26: Cobalt

**Chapter 26: Cobalt**

* * *

 **Khushi**

Khushi felt safe when she woke up; warm and calm and content despite the tumult of the previous night.

It was only when she shifted with a groan that she realised that the warmth and softness she felt came not from the bed _but from the one who shared it with her_.

 _Hai Devi Maiyya!_

Panic spread through her at lightning pace, her mind speedily deciding that Arnav-ji had joined her last night without invitation or permission.

 _No, wait! Wasn't I supposed to sleep on the sofa last night?_

Her heart, moments away from leaping out of her chest with fear, beat to a gentler rhythm. Her thoughts fell into some sort of order and she blushed as mortification replaced her fright.

It had been her. _She_ had climbed into his bed without invitation.

She started to leave the bed, her mind a mess of distress, embarrassment, and no small amount of confusion, and tried not to disturb her husband's peace. But she froze when she realised that his arm was wrapped around her.

 _How didn't I notice sooner?_

Her tummy gave a flip-flop. He held her loosely, his elbow at her waist and his fingers splayed on her tummy. Heat spread through Khushi's body from where he touched her, electric and potent. Her breath came in small pants as happiness tentatively blossomed in her heart.

 _But what does this mean?_

Her embarrassment lingered, as did her confusion, so she resumed her attempts to slip away. His arm refused to budge. She pushed a little harder.

And then Arnav-ji groaned sleepily before muttering, "Five more minutes, babe."

He pulled her closer, shifting against her and sliding his hand higher. Several things happened at once. Khushi arched, trying to prevent his hand from venturing further north, and then clamped her hand over his to still the movement. In doing so, she brushed against something that poked her in the small of her back. She froze.

 _What is ... oh, oh no ... it's just his other hand ... thank the Goddess._

She was still breathing too fast. She twisted, blushing into her pillow.

 _He called me ... no one has ever called me that before ... and he ... he wants me to stay._

And she would, so long as he wanted her.

She tentatively pressed back into his warmth and twined her fingers with his, basking in her brief euphoria until a thought intruded.

 _But why did he call me ... babe? He's never done it before._

He'd never even indicated that he wanted to call her anything but her name. He'd called her _Miss Gupta_ when she'd worked for him, she'd been _Khushi_ and _Khushi Kumari Gupta_ after her resignation, and only recently had she become _Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada_. But never anything else.

 _He's asleep. He doesn't even know I'm here_.

Her tummy cramped with anguish as she realised that he was not — _could not be_ — thinking of her. Khushi's thoughts and emotions spiralled as her mind recovered the long-buried memory of Lavanya-ji consoling Arnav-ji at the dining table — " _It's okay, baby"_.

 _Oh._

 _Maybe he called her ... It makes ... it makes sense._

She lay in his arms, something inside her fracturing as she vividly recalled a conversation about live-in relationships — _"Living in the same room, without marriage"_ — and a hushed exchange between a scandalised and awed Khushi and a giggling Lavanya-ji where the latter had confessed to sneaking into Arnav-ji's bedroom on her first night in the house.

And she had not understood, not then and not fully, but now she thought she did. After _Diwali_ , and Jiji's _Sangeet_ , and yesterday, she understood. And with him holding her like this, his body moving subtly against hers, his heat seeping into her and his breath warming her neck, _oh Devi Maiyya she understood_.

Her tummy roiled in protest. There was a sharp pain in her chest as if her heart was breaking.

 _He doesn't want me. Never me._

 _He didn't kiss me._

Khushi sobbed and tried to get out of the bed again, wiping tears on the back of her hand. Her movements seemed to frustrate her husband, who held tighter as she struggled.

"Khushi!" he warned.

She swivelled to look at him, surprised to find his eyes still closed. He was still more asleep than awake.

 _He's thinking of me. Or dreaming of me. Me._

Her relief was short-lived, because Arnav-ji chose that moment to open his eyes. He blinked once, twice, and then seemed to focus on her.

"What the—!"

He jerked away, his hands leaving her abruptly as he sat up.

"Did I ..." he trailed off, frowning uncertainly at the sofa.

"No," Khushi sat up too, sliding to the edge of the bed to create distance between them, "I did. I got ... I got confused. S-sorry."

He looked at her. She looked at him, and tried not to get lost in his eyes.

"It's okay," he fidgeted with the duvet, "It happens."

Seconds ticked by, heavy with awkwardness, and then Arnav-ji swung out of the bed with a sigh, "I'm going jogging."

He grabbed a change of clothes before heading to the bathroom.

The after-effects of the morning made her giddy — the way he'd held her, the way he'd called her ... _babe_ ... and the way he didn't seem to mind their impromptu bed-sharing. She was dangerously happy.

She was in the mood to tease him.

"You also talk in your sleep."

"What?" he turned, a hand on the door handle.

"Yesterday you complained that I talk in my sleep," she grinned, "and I thought you should know that you talk too."

He blinked, opened his mouth to say something, and then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he stepped into the bathroom without a word. Alone, Khushi waited until he turned on the tap before squealing happily into a pillow. Then she scrambled out of bed to dance a jig.

She lost track of time.

"What are you doing?"

She turned, arms still in the air. Arnav-ji had changed into a jogging outfit of a grey t-shirt and black pants paired with a zip-up track jacket. He frowned at her.

"Uhh ... I'm ... I'm ... practising Salman-ji's latest dance move!"

Placing her hands where her belt buckle would be if she were wearing one, she jiggled her shoulders and hips in the signature move. Arnav-ji looked down, fighting a smile and failing.

"Use the bathroom while I'm gone," he recovered himself, "I have a lot of work today so I'll need to start early."

She nodded, "Okay."

#####

She was late to the _puja_ — having fallen into daydreams in the shower — and so had hastily thrown on a cobalt blue _salwaar_ suit before leaving the room, plaiting her hair messily as she flew down the stairs. Arnav-ji had returned as the family prayed, heading straight upstairs for a shower, but had joined them for breakfast.

"I have to make a phone call," he excused himself when he was done.

Khushi followed after helping pack away the breakfast things so she could finish getting ready.

 _I am not looking forward to spending more time with him._

 _Maybe I am_.

She brushed her hair until it was smooth and shiny, but he still paced the poolside as he talked. So she brushed it some more, humming a nonsensical song that had come to her this morning.

 _Aaj mausam hai suhana!_

 _Naye kapdon ka hai bahana!_

 _What the, what the, what the!_

 _Hum toh hain deewane!_

 _Masti ko dhoonde bahane!_

 _What the, what the, what the!_

Khushi didn't turn around when he finally returned to the room and opened the wardrobe door, some part of her hoping that he'd talk to her again. But the minutes passed in silence, so she threw her hair over her shoulder as she turned. He stood frozen, staring at her with something akin to hunger in his eyes and her question died on her lips as her heart gave a vigorous thud.

Her tummy did a small backflip.

"What?" she asked softly.

"I ... uh ..." he cleared his throat, turning to the wardrobe, "Nothing."

He turned, shrugging into his jacket, but whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Chhote, Khushi-ji," Di smiled, "I'm going to put oil in my hair later and thought I would get some _neem_ and _tulsi_."

"Why you, Di? I'll get it," Khushi offered, turning to the poolside doors.

She tripped on the _basta_ of things she'd carelessly left near the sofa, and cringed as her sister-in-law gasped.

"Your clothes are still in these bags?"

 _Oh no._

Khushi turned slowly, dreading Arnav-ji's anger, and was unsurprised to find that he'd frozen where he was.

 _Oh Devi Maiyya, please help me._

"Khushi-ji," Di's began in a lecturing tone, "You are Chhote's wife. You aren't here for a day or two, or even a few months, you're here for the rest of your life."

 _"There is no future, and after the baby is born ..."_

Twisting her hands into her _dupatta_ , Khushi fought her tears as she studied the floor. She trembled, acutely aware that her husband still had not moved a muscle, as Di continued.

"So why haven't you unpacked?"

"Di ..." she said softly, "I ... you see ... Arnav-ji ..."

"Chhote ..." Di turned to her brother, "this is so wrong. Why are Khushi-ji's things still in the bag? And you have so much space, surely you can create some for her? All your shirts are black anyway, it won't matter if you push them to the side!"

Khushi willed Arnav-ji to read her apology in her eyes when he finally looked at her. He spoke, still holding her gaze.

"Di, I've told her so many times to set up all her things but she keeps forgetting."

He winked. She almost lost her balance. Di didn't seem to notice as she opened the wardrobe.

"Let's do this," Arnav-ji slid his shirts to one side of the wardrobe, "Khushi, bring your things."

Khushi jumped to attention, grabbing her _basta_ and shuffling to his side. Di unpacked her outfits, Arnav-ji conjured up hangers from a drawer, and Khushi watched in a daze as her things took their place amongst his.

"Are you going to help?" her husband paused in his task.

"Y-yes, I ... I will."

He moved his ties into a drawer, making space for her cloth bags. Then he looked at Di, making a circle with his finger to indicate that she should turn around. Confused, Khushi followed suit, glancing at Di out of the corner of her eye. She heard Arnav-ji open and close a few drawers.

"Khushi-ji," Di leaned over to whisper, "Why are you turning around? You've seen it all before."

She blushed deeply as the realised what was happening.

 _Arnav-ji is moving his small-clothes out of the drawers._

"Okay," he announced a short time later, "That's ready for your things. Now shoes."

He helped Di squat next to the wardrobe before joining her.

"They're all black, Chhote," she teased.

"They're all different," he argued, "but I'll get Hari Prakash to pack a few away."

He moved more than half the pairs, making space, and then held out his hand for the second _basta_ of shoes.

"I ... I can do it," Khushi managed.

He smiled warmly over Di's head before shifting over so she could kneel next to Di. And then, when her shoes were lined up neatly next to his, he handed her a small box.

"What's in there?" he asked as they both helped Di stand.

"Oh ..." she blushed, "it's a collection of my ... my things."

Khushi counted them out, "Lotion, jasmine oil, Bua-ji's balm."

"It looks perfect," Di clapped her hands together when they were done, "doesn't it?"

"Y-yes Di. Th-thank you for helping," Khushi turned to her husband, twisting her hands together nervously, "and th-thank you for making space for m-me."

He nodded in acknowledgement.

"I'll ... I'll get the _neem_ and _tulsi_ now," she offered, "Di, why don't you wait for me in your room?"

Arnav-ji spoke as she reached the doors leading to the poolside.

"Bye, Di, I'll see you in the evening."

Despite her best efforts, Khushi remained where was, watching as he gathered his things. He stopped when he was alongside her.

"Bye," he said softly, "You can reach me on my mobile if you need me."

She nodded.

#####

Half an hour later, Khushi stood in the kitchen, her attention split between the _sabzi_ she was cooking for lunch and the oil she was preparing for Di. Lakshmi-ji kept her company as she ground the leaves into a paste and added them to the warm oil.

"Lakshmi-ji, do you know how Bua-ji praises my fingers?"

Talking to her friend was easier than turning her mind to her puzzle of a husband.

"When I would add _neem_ leaves to oil and massage her head then all she could say was _Aaahh! Your hands are magical, Titaliya_ before falling asleep."

"Maybe you should show me how magical your hands are, Khushi-ji."

 _Devi Maiyya, give me strength._

She placed her spoon on the countertop, at first refusing to acknowledge Shyam-ji's presence, but then she couldn't resist throwing him a glare. He reached towards her as she started to leave.

"Give it to me, I'll take it. Your _sabzi_ will burn."

She took a small step backwards, "No, I'll do it."

"I'm only asking for the oil, Khushi-ji, not your hand in marriage that you've become so nervous."

The joke made her feel slightly ill. Shyam-ji grinned. She looked down, noting the pestle she'd used to grind the leaves still sitting on the countertop, and an idea sprang into her mind. She pushed the pestle off the table and onto his foot, jumping backwards as he doubled over in pain.

"Sorry," she instilled sweetness she didn't feel into her tone as she glared down at him, "I hope it didn't hurt you! Take care of your foot for now, and I will send oil for you with Hari Prakash-ji."

Khushi marched to Di's room, head held high, and knocked on the door. Di was sitting on the bed, running her fingers through her hair.

"Oh Khushi-ji, I was just about to call you. But then he said that he'll get you. Did he find you?"

Khushi didn't answer, though guilt churned in her tummy as she climbed onto the bed to kneel behind Di. Shyam-ji walked into the room as she prepared to massage Di's head.

"I had to look far and wide for Khushi-ji," his smile was predatory, "but I found her eventually. Wherever she might go, she'll end up here. Isn't that right, Khushi-ji?"

Her pulse skittered at his words. Shocked, she watched in disbelief as he settled into a chair.

Di didn't seem to notice anything amiss as she leaned back, "Khushi-ji, it feels really good."

"Really, _Rani Sahiba_? It seems like Khushi-ji's hands are magical."

"Yes, that's right. I don't even feel like opening my eyes!"

"Then don't, _Rani Sahiba_. Just sit back and enjoy it. Relax."

Shyam-ji stared at her knowingly, the hidden meaning in his words clear. And Khushi squirmed in discomfort, wishing that she'd asked Di to meet her somewhere more public. Her heart raced with fear when he stood sometime later, and she watched out of the corner of her eye as he picked something up.

"Khushi-ji," he approached, "Tissue paper. For your hands."

"N-no, I'll get some myself."

"Take it, Khushi-ji," Di said, her eyes still closed, "and then make sure you use _besan_ to clean your hands."

Instead of accepting what Shyam-ji offered, Khushi took some tissues from the box, but he thwarted her by covering her hand with his.

"Anjali-ji" her voice rose in panic and disgust, "Open your eyes!"

Shyam-ji swiftly released her and dropped the tissue box on the bed. Anjali-ji looked up, frowning in confusion.

"I thought you were falling asleep," Khushi explained insincerely as Shyam-ji pretended to read a newspaper, "Please, sit on the bed properly."

Swallowing the lump that fear had caused in her throat, she climbed off the bed and fled Di's bedroom.

 _Arnav-ji will skin him alive if I tell him._

#####

She spent the rest of the day with her sister, helping around the house and then sitting with Nani-ji. They made plans to visit Mohan-ji in the hospital the next day. Then she and Jiji prepared dinner with the help of the servants, but just as they started to ready the table, Aakash-ji called to say that he and Arnav-ji would be late.

"Sit with me while I eat," Nani-ji smiled at this, "and then you children can all eat together when Aakash- _bitwa_ and Arnav- _bitwa_ return."

The suggestion was met with glad agreement and after the elders had gone to bed, the younger generation settled on the couches to wait. Nanhe-ji sprawled sideways on one of them, Di and Shyam-ji shared another, and Jiji sat on the third. Khushi settled on the floor next to her sister just as Di passed around an envelope.

"Two months ago, we were invited to a wedding. It's next week. I think we should all go."

"I can't," Nanhe-ji lamented as he munched on a chocolate bar, "I'm leaving for Mumbai in two days."

"What?!" cried Khushi.

"I also have a wedding to attend," he explained, "of a friend."

There were murmurs of assent from everyone else. Jiji thought that Aakash-ji would be able to attend. Di knew that Mami-ji had already picked out all her outfits. Shyam-ji said that he'd taken a few days off work so he could attend.

"But," he sneered, "perhaps _Saale-Sahib_ won't be able to accompany us. He hates weddings, and he's always too busy."

Khushi curled her fingers into her _kameez_.

Di turned to her husband, "Chhote will come. It's Khushi-ji's first outing with us as a _bahu_ , of course he'll accompany her."

"Of course, _Rani Sahiba_ ," he simpered.

"We can go shopping," Di suggested gleefully, "all of us."

Reaching for a handful of nuts from the bowl they'd brought over from the kitchen, Khushi heartily agreed. She had nothing appropriate for such an event, her first as a Raizada _bahu_.

 _But where will the money come from?_

The doorbell prevented further discussion. Khushi stood, eager to escape Shyam-ji's stare, but Om Prakash-ji beat her to it. She remained standing, her heart pounding in anticipation. The realisation that she'd missed him, that she'd looked forward to this moment since he'd left her, took her completely by surprise.

Arnav-ji stepped inside first, handing Om Prakash-ji his laptop bag as he approached the sitting area. Khushi's heart lurched when his gaze found hers. Aakash-ji followed, coming to a stop behind Nanhe-ji's couch.

"Chhote, Aakash, is everything okay?" Di asked.

"Yes, Di," Jija-ji answered with a smile, "One of our internal meetings ran over time, and that delayed everything else."

"Have you eaten?"

This was from Arnav-ji.

"They waited," Di spoke before Khushi had gathered her words, "for their husbands. Such is the dedication of newlywed brides. My brothers are so lucky to have wives like these."

"Oh ho!" Nanhe-ji laughed, "What a love story. What's that quote from the movie? _The family that eats together, prays together —_ "

" _—stays together!_ " everyone — except her Laad Governor — chanted before dissolving into laughter.

"We'll wash up and then we can all eat," Aakash-ji grinned.

They all watched the two men jog upstairs. Khushi sank back down, curling her legs under her as she sat on the floor. She had trouble concentrating on the conversation as her eyes flicked towards the stairs every few seconds.

Aakash-ji returned first, having changed into more comfortable clothes. He lounged on the remaining seat with a sigh, where Jiji joined him almost immediately. With none of the elders around, they sat a little closer than they normally would have and were soon holding hands.

A pang of longing went through Khushi just as Arnav-ji arrived at the top of the stairs. He'd thrown off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Khushi noted that his hair looked wet as he navigated the sitting area and sank down on the now-empty seat behind her. He sat so close that his foot almost touched her hip and his leg rested against her back. She stilled, air stuck in her lungs and pulse racing.

"We were just talking about the wedding next week," Di began, "Will you two be able to go?"

Khushi studied her hands in her lap. She felt Arnav-ji shift behind her so that he was leaning forward. His leg was warm where it pressed against her.

"I should be able to go to the evening events," Aakash-ji replied.

"When is it?" Arnav-ji asked.

"Wednesday to Sunday," Di passed over the invitation, "Most of them are daytime events, Aakash."

"I'm not going. I hate these things."

"Chhote!" Di admonished sharply, "You have to go to the reception at least."

Arnav-ji scoffed, throwing the invitation onto the small table in the centre, "No."

Di leaned forward and lowered her tone dangerously, "It's Khushi-ji's first event with us. _You need to be there_."

"N-no, it's okay," Khushi ignored the way her heart sank, "I'll be fine. You will all be there anyway, there's no need for Arnav-ji to trouble ..."

She trailed off at a gentle tug on her hair.

Arnav-ji played with it as he hummed contemplatively, "I'll come for the reception then. Nothing else."

Khushi blushed, hoping no one else had noticed his attention.

"We're thinking of visiting Mohan-ji tomorrow," Jiji told Jija-ji, "and then going shopping."

"I've sent a few things to his family," Arnav-ji idly wrapped her hair around his hand, "and his bills should be taken care of. Ask him if he needs anything else."

Khushi's pulse raced as she looked up and noted that Di was grinning at them.

"Yes, Chhote," she saluted in his direction.

Khushi closed her eyes, heart pounding in her ears, as Arnav-ji made a small noise of amusement and unwound her hair. She opened them as he started wrapping it in figure-eights around his first and middle fingers.

"Does he ..." she cleared her throat, trying to concentrate on her words instead of the way his hands felt in her hair, "D-does Mohan-ji have a wife?"

"An older brother," Arnav-ji answered, "and an ailing father."

Jiji fretted, "They must be so worried. Isn't there something we can do?"

"We pay for his father's care too. They'll be fine, trust me," Aakash-ji leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"I can accompany you ladies to the hospital tomorrow," Shyam-ji offered, "I'll drive you back home and then stop by the office."

Arnav-ji's hands stilled. Khushi leaned back, pressing onto his leg as a warning.

"I'll work from home tomorrow," her husband announced, "I'll drive them to the hospital. I need to talk to the doctor in any case."

Shyam-ji smiled, though his eyes narrowed in displeasure. Di distracted him by leaning into his arm.

"Thank you. You are so sweet, to offer to spend the morning away from the office. In fact, you're spending so much time with us these days, it's nice."

Out of the corner of her eye, Khushi saw that Arnav-ji's hand had curled into a first. She placed her hand over his and then guided it to her shoulder, reminding him to keep calm. He squeezed gently.

"I have no choice," Shyam-ji lamented absently, before recovering himself, "I mean, I want to be around my _Rani Sahiba_ and _Rajkumari_ all the time."

Though Aakash-ji chuckled, Khushi saw that Jiji looked vaguely disgusted. Feeling nauseated herself, she started to excuse herself but froze when Arnav-ji pushed down on her shoulder in a silent request that she remain. He then ran a light finger across her shoulder and up her neck under the cover of her hair. Heat rushed all over her as she was instantly diverted.

"I'm hungry," Nanhe-ji complained loudly, "When are we eating?!"

Di stood with a giggle, "OP has just finished setting the table, NK-Bhai! Let's go."

Khushi watched everyone drift into the dining room. Arnav-ji had not moved, and so she didn't either.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly when they were alone.

"Y-yes."

She cursed the tremble in her voice as he put two fingers under her chin to turn her so she faced him.

"Tell me."

She looked down, "It's ... it's nothing."

"What did he do, Khushi?" he cupped her cheek with a hand.

She leaned into his touch, trying her best not to cry, "Arnav-ji ..."

He swore under his breath, guiding her up until she sat next to him, and then rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'll fix this. I promise you. I'll fix this."


	32. Interlude: Avalanche

**Interlude: Avalanche**

* * *

 **Arnav**

"Thank you, Sir. We're ... we're in your debt."

Mohan's brother — Ravi — shook Arnav's hand for the sixth time since they'd arrived.

"Arnav," he corrected, "and Mohan is a part of our household. I'll take care of everything."

Ravi nodded and turned towards the room Mohan was resting in. Di, Khushi and Payal had exhausted the man with their basket of home-made foodstuffs and collection of sundry items for "comfort". The women now sat next to the sickbed, conversing in hushed whispers as Mohan slept. Perhaps Khushi noticed his stare because she chose that moment to look up. She smiled serenely, blushing a little, before replying to whatever her sister asked her.

Arnav studied his driver from the doorway. Mohan was pale. His left leg was in a cast, as was his left wrist. There was a bandage around his head, and another hidden under his shirt. He had suffered a mild concussion, three fractures, a few broken ribs and a collapsed lung.

"These eight days would've been so much harder if you hadn't called the hospital," Ravi admitted.

 _Has it only been eight days?_

Arnav thought back to their long conversation with Mohan's doctors, "He's recovering well. The doctors are optimistic."

"They mentioned post-traumatic stress," the other man said uncertainly.

"I said I would support your family through everything. I meant it. He saved my sister's life."

"How is Anjali-ji?"

"Recovering."

"The police don't think it was an accident."

Arnav exhaled slowly, "They're still investigating."

In fact, the police investigation was proceeding so slowly that what little faith he had in the public justice system was waning away to nothing. And to add to the stress, Aman had requested an extension of leave to attend the hastily-organised engagement of a younger sister.

 _Unbelievable_.

Not only that Aman had asked, but that he'd agreed.

Arnav was distracted from his thoughts as Khushi withdrew from the women and approached. She wore the _sari_ he'd helped her pick out, pink with green velvet accents.

 _That was also eight days ago._

She came to a standstill a short distance away, fiddling with her bangles. Just like her _sindoor_ and _mangalsutra_ , she never failed to wear Mamma's bangles.

"My wife, Khushi," Arnav introduced her, "and Khushi, this is Mohan's brother, Ravi."

" _Namaste_ ," Khushi brought her hands together, "How are you?"

"Fine, thank you for visiting my brother and cheering him up."

"He's like family, Ravi-ji, no need to thank us. It made Di feel a lot better to visit him and see how he's doing. Arnav-ji, I think we're finished. Mohan-ji is sleeping."

Arnav, distracted from his study of the way the _sari_ accentuated the flare of her hips, cleared his throat before he attempted speech, "I'm ready to leave when you are."

"Okay."

She left after flashing him a final smile. He watched the sway of her hips as she walked away.

He'd been momentarily robbed of speech when she'd stepped out of the bathroom wearing that _sari_ this morning. She'd paired it with a gold blouse with puffed sleeves and pompoms, and wore a simple gold necklace that Di had gifted her. Her hair fell in a sleek ebony waterfall down her back, begging his hands to tangle in it as they had yesterday.

His attraction to her was taking over, his mind almost continually played out one impossible (and sensual) fantasy after another. The latest had involved her against the wall, twisting her hands in his hair as he'd kissed and sucked and bitten his way down her body. Her short, gasping breaths had done wonderful things for the bounty hidden under her blouse. She'd moaned when he'd traced her collarbone with his tongue. His hand had wandered down, pushing aside her _sari_ and circling her navel before delighting in the way her muscles had tensed and jumped as he ventured lower to chart new territory. She'd bucked desperately, needing more, and he'd been more than happy to give it to her.

His recollection of the delicious fantasy was broken abruptly as the women exited the room. When Khushi looked at him quizzically, having apparently picked up on his distraction, he shook his head before extending a hand to Ravi.

"I'll stay in touch and keep you informed if there's any new information."

The other man shook his hand vigorously, "Thank you, Sir, uh ... A-Arnav. I'll do the same."

Outside, he helped Di into the car, watching out of the corner of his eye as Khushi hauled herself into the front. For once, she buckled the belt without a reminder. The drive to Shantivan passed without incident, though he noted that Khushi glanced in his direction often. She remained seated after Payal had helped Di out of the car, so he waited with her.

"Is there something you need?" he asked when the other women had disappeared inside.

She looked out the window, nervously twisting her _sari_ in her hands, and spoke softly, "Can you ... can you stay?"

He was confused, "Why?"

"N-n-nothing, forget it."

Khushi reached for the door handle. He stopped her with a hand to her shoulder and offered a compromise.

"I'll come home early, after the meeting."

 _Love makes us do strange things._

"Okay," Khushi offered him a strained smile as she alighted from the car, "Take care."

#####

He was late.

Despite his best efforts, he was late, and the mid-afternoon Delhi traffic was doing its best to exacerbate his distress. He battered the horn in frustration.

A small part of him argued that it was unreasonable of Khushi to expect that he abandon his obligations towards the company he'd build up from the ground at a moment's notice, but the rest of him hated that he'd broken a promise.

When he was finally in Shantivan, Arnav waved away a passing servant and jogged up the stairs, intending to change before searching for his wife. But what he saw from the doorway froze him in his tracks. The room was dark. Khushi sat on the bed, knees curled against her chest, oblivious to his presence.

"Why me?" she snatched at something next to her and hugged it to her chest with a sob, "Why did Shyam-ji choose me to run his scheme on?"

Any response he could've made was forestalled when he recognised what she held - his blue shirt. Bands tightened across his chest as guilt roiled in his gut. She looked small and frail and utterly vulnerable. She spoke again before he managed to gather his thoughts.

"And why ... why doesn't Arnav-ji believe me?" Khushi sobbed into the shirt.

She didn't cry delicately. She cried as if her heart was breaking, as if her very soul was wounded, and some part of him realised that it likely was. Arnav's heart filled with sorrow and dread and half a dozen other things he had no names for.

He stepped into the room as Khushi howled into the shirt again, her shoulders shaking violently. "What else ... what else can I do? I t-tried everything. And ..."

Unsurprisingly, she didn't notice him until he was standing beside the bed. Her tear-stained features caused his breath to stall. She was strong, but not strong enough for this, _not alone_. The realisation brought tears to his eyes as he climbed into the bed to gather her in his arms.

Khushi struggled, pushing on his shoulders and kicking a little, but he ignored the voice of warning in his mind and held tighter. She needed this as much as he did.

"Sssshhhh."

She calmed, the hands that had been pushing him away pulling him closer. Her tears returned, thick and fast as she sobbed into his shoulder.

"Why don't you trust me?" she asked, her voice watery and broken.

And when she said that, he heard the question she did not give voice to.

 _Why don't you love me?_

The full extent of the damage his brother-in-law had caused was suddenly made clear. It was not only the deception of the family and the betrayal of his wedding vows, it was not only the treacherous engagement and subsequent threats, it was not only his abominable lust and avarice.

It was this; the marring of every good memory and the annihilation of every hope.

 _"What did you think,_ Arnav _? That she wanted you? The dancing, the earring, that kiss by the poolside? Did you think it was real?"_

Arnav's tears disappeared into his wife's hair as he took a deep breath. Shyam had extinguished a flame in its infancy, but perhaps he and Khushi still held the tools to rekindle it.

"He ... he told me it was all a lie."

Her sobs quieted, and Arnav took it as a sign to continue.

"He told me you never wanted me. That all of it — the kiss, the dance, the earring — it was all a lie. A deception."

She twisted so they could see each other.

"A distraction," he finished in a whisper, "so I wouldn't notice ..."

"Never!" Khushi's denial was vehement.

"I can't tell anymore," he confessed, "It never goes away, his voice."

There was a brief silence, in which her bottom lip trembled as she placed her hand, palm flat, over his heart. After a few moments, he covered her hand with his to hold it here. She blinked back fresh tears with a sniffle.

"Khushi," he said softly, "Is it necessary to cry over every little thing?"

She gave a watery giggle, clearly remembering the other time he'd asked that — on the day he'd first kissed her by the poolside. She smiled as she shifted her weight to lean against the headboard.

He shifted too and, feeling something sharp underneath him, rescued a small gold star from under his knee. Now that he thought to look, he saw gold and silver stars scattered all over the bed.

"What's this?"

Khushi looked around, "My stars. I wanted to put them above the bed but you ... you don't have anything like that here."

A memory rose to the surface of his mind.

 _"I was eight years old when my parents died in an accident. I believe my parents have become stars, so I sleep with stars hung over my bed."_

"Ahh."

 _She was speaking to her parents._

He watched the nervous motion of her hands as she spoke, "I ... I mean ... Is it ok-okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I can help you if you want."

He called down for HP after urging Khushi to clean herself up in the bathroom and asked the head-servant to bring up a drill and some hooks. When she was done, he took a quick shower before joining her at the foot of the bed. She'd collected all the stars into a pile.

"I'll drill the holes," he offered, "while you tie the stars to the hooks. Then I'll put the hooks into the ceiling."

They worked in companionable silence for a while, but she eventually spoke when he paused in his drilling, "Arnav-ji ... Di thinks I should get a _sari_ for the reception."

"Hmm?"

"It's black and has a pink border. I took a photo of it for you to see."

Arnav lowered the drill, "Why didn't you just buy it?"

"Uhh," she blushed, avoiding his eyes, "It's your money, I thought I would show you first."

"Just buy it next time."

They both froze, watching each other warily as the words seemed to echo between them.

 _Next time._

He wondered if she knew how much he wanted to step down from the bed, if she knew how much he wanted to kiss her, if she knew how much he wanted to promise there would be a next time, and many more after that.

 _Forever_.

He turned back to his task, now hyper-aware of her stare as he worked. Glancing down, he saw that she focussed not on his hands, but on his midriff, where his shirt had ridden up.

He cleared his throat and watched as she jumped a little before meeting his eyes. He grinned. She blushed.

And for the first time in a long time, he felt that they were going to be okay.


	33. Chapter 27: Catering

**Chapter 27: Catering**

* * *

 **Khushi**

Khushi smoothed her hands over the pink _salwaar_ suit she wore, adjusted her _dupatta_ , and then stepped out into the corridor. Arnav-ji had gone out for a jog, and she was on her way to the morning _puja_.

"Good morning, Khushi-ji," Di greeted her brightly, "Can you please help with this?"

Skipping to Di's side with a smile, she helped with the _puja_ preparations as the rest of the family filtered into the temple area. But she was distracted from her prayers by the return of her husband and watched as he murmured something to Om Prakash-ji before making his way towards the stairs. He slowed as he neared the temple and inclined his head in her direction in a silent greeting. His damp hair fell into his eyes. Her tummy swooped low as her cheeks and neck heated with a blush.

 _Hai Devi Maiyya, he's so handsome._

Khushi tried to concentrate on her prayers after shaking that errant thought out of her head, but it felt as though every fibre of her being was waiting for him to return. She was setting the table when he did, and her pulse stuttered when she saw that he was showered and dressed for work in blue and black.

They'd made progress last night. Or ... if not progress ... then they'd set their feet on a new path. Together. They had come to an understanding and were finally on the page, a realization that inspired the nervous-excited flutter inside her.

 _"He told me you never wanted me. That all of it — the kiss, the dance, the earring — it was all a lie. A deception."_

And here — finally — was a problem she could fix.

She couldn't beg him to trust, couldn't conjure up evidence to prove her innocence, couldn't force Shyam-ji into revealing himself. But she could show Arnav-ji that she wanted him. That she'd always wanted him, even when she hadn't known it herself.

Rounding the table, Khushi stood at her husband's side and began buttering toast for him. When he reached for the orange juice, looking amused by this change her routine, she hurriedly dropped the toast on his plate before grabbing the jug.

"What the—!"

"I'll do it," she smiled while pouring it into his glass, "You eat."

He grabbed her wrist and forced her into the chair beside him, "Sit. Eat."

A ripple of laughter travelled around the table as Di leaned forward, "Chhote, you're very concerned about your wife this morning."

Arnav-ji glowered at his sister and bit into his toast without comment. But a few minutes later, when everyone else was distracted by something Mami-ji said, he flashed a smile in her direction. After breakfast, Khushi followed her husband upstairs to help get his things together for work.

"I hope your day goes well," she handed him his phone after unplugging it from where he'd left it to charge.

He pocketed it distractedly, "Thanks, take care of yourself."

 _Khushi, be brave._

Arnav-ji looked up as she took a step forward, finally giving her all of his attention when they were close enough to touch. She didn't stop. He seemed to freeze as she wound her arms around his torso and rested her head against his shoulder.

Their embrace wasn't long. Khushi stepped away, trying to hide her blush behind her hair.

And her husband broke their not-quite-awkward silence, "Come to the door with me?"

#####

Khushi sighed as she watched Di knit something for her Rajkumari. He hadn't kissed her at the front door, but he'd smiled and squeezed her hand in farewell before leaving.

 _It's a start._

"What should we have for lunch today?" Anjali-ji didn't look up as she spoke.

"I can make something," Jiji's hands stilled over the _sari_ she was embroidering, "I have to make something for Aakash anyway."

"I'll help!" Khushi popped up, eager for the distraction, "Jiji and I will make something special for everyone!"

"The servants can make something," Di shook her head, "You two should relax. It's only your first week in the house."

"No, Di, I need the ... I might go crazy if I sit around and do nothing today."

Hurrying to the kitchen, Khushi busied herself with the task gladly and chattered with her Jiji as they worked together. Di joined them as they were finishing up.

"Khushi-ji, Payal-ji, you've made so much food!"

"It should be enough for all of us, even Jija-ji and Arnav-ji," she smiled at her sister-in-law.

"It's enough for everyone who works at AR," Di picked up a salad platter, "This looks like it came from a five-star hotel!"

"That's very kind of you, Di, but I made that without paying attention."

"If this is what you can make without paying attention, imagine what you can do when you put your mind to it!"

Not knowing how to reply, Khushi ducked her head as they watched Di poke around in one of the pots.

"You know," Di said slowly, "I would suggest that you take this to AR but I'm sure Chhote has ordered pizza by now. The AR canteen is closed today."

"How do you know that?" Jiji echoed Khushi's surprise.

Di clapped her hands together with a mischievous smile, "My spies are everywhere!"

Khushi's heart leapt at the prospect of seeing Arnav-ji during the day.

"I can take this to the offices," she couldn't stop her grin, "Who would want to eat pizza when they could have this instead?"

It was quickly decided that Lalit-ji would drive both her and Jiji to the headquarters. Ecstatic, Khushi decided to make some _jalebi_ to accompany the food and grinned when her sister joined her to help. She couldn't stop her hands from mixing up a batch without sugar.

Later, the food was packed into containers and laden into a white car, while she and Jiji bundled themselves into the back seat. Khushi noted that Jiji had found the time to change into a dark green _sari_ and put her hair up into a complicated knot. She looked down at her pink _salwaar_ , wondering if she should have changed as well.

But she put aside her doubts as the car slowed to a stop outside the offices. Lalit-ji helped them carry the things to the front entrance, where they were stopped by the security guards.

"You can't go inside," one of them said.

"Of course I can," Khushi grinned, "I have food for everyone."

"You still can't go inside."

"Do you know who I am?" she narrowed her eyes at the man, lowering her burdens to the floor.

A shrug from the second guard, "Khushi. You used to work here."

She pulled out her _mangalsutra_ from behind her _dupatta_ , "Khushi Kumari Gupta _Singh Raizada_. Don't you read the newspapers?"

The men faltered, their eyes seeming to widen with surprise as they stammered.

"Shall we call Arnav-ji?" Jiji spoke from behind her, "or may we go inside?"

The guards stepped aside with an apologetic smile.

"I'm ... I'm sorry ... Khushi-ji," one said, "Let me carry this for you."

"It's okay, I've got it," she gathered up her things, "Make sure you come inside to eat."

One of the guards held the door open for them while the other ran inside to speak with the lady at the reception desk. They marched inside without any more interruptions, and Khushi headed straight for the canteen to set everything up. The employees gathered around curiously.

"That's not the pizza we ordered," a man in cream coloured shirt said.

"You won't want pizza when you've tasted this," Khushi declared as the unpacked the food, "trust me."

"But Sir ..."

"It's okay, have some."

"Payal? Khushi-ji? What are you doing here?"

Aakash-ji frowned as he approached the counter they stood behind.

"We brought lunch," Jiji handed over the tiffin she'd lovingly prepared, "Khushi made enough for everyone."

Jiji and Jija-ji took their food to his office for privacy. Aakash-ji's arrival — and obvious approval — made some employees brave enough to draw near the counter. Khushi prepared plates for them, watching as the rest slowly formed a line. Her eyes anxiously darted to the door, hoping for a glimpse of her husband.

He arrived as she was finishing up.

"What the—!"

"Arnav-ji!"

"What are you doing here? And what's all this?"

Khushi faltered — he didn't seem as happy as she'd hoped. "I uhh ... I brought food for everyone b-because the canteen is cl-closed today."

Arnav-ji closed his eyes and took a deep breath, almost as if he were struggling for calm.

"In my cabin," his voice was a low and tinged with danger, "Now."

Khushi grabbed the special tiffin she'd packed for him before following, hurrying up the stairs and into his office as trepidation flooded her.

 _Please protect me, Devi Maiyya._

"Are you angry?" she asked once the door was shut behind her.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?"

"I told you ... I made food."

"What! For whom?!"

"Everyone. We ... Jiji and I made too much at home, and your ... your canteen was closed so we thought ... so I thought ..."

"Khushi!"

She smiled tentatively, forcing herself to ignore the anger in his eyes and step forward.

"It's okay, Arnav-ji. They liked it. And some people even requested food for tomorrow."

"No!"

"What?"

"Go home," his tone was all cold, quiet fury, sharp-edged and brittle.

"But—"

"—Get your things and go home, Khushi," he bit out.

His anger sparked her own, "No!"

"I'm telling you to—"

"—No, Mr Arnav Singh Raizada. I have as much right to be here as you do," she showed him her _mangalsutra_ , "I'm your wife."

He froze, and so did she. Memories sprang to life between them.

 _"You understand that this is not real?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"Papers to say that you will not ask for any part of the estate or company in the case of a divorce."_

The anger seemed to seep out of the room, leaving only the bitter reminder of they'd come to be here. Dread pooled her in her tummy as she watched Arnav-ji close his eyes and suck in a deep breath.

"Khushi," he spoke softly, almost imploringly, "please go home. We'll talk later."

She spoke to her shoes, "I'll go once I've collected my things and Jiji is ready to leave."

Turning on her heels, she all but ran from the cabin as her throat closed around a sob.

The tiffin remained on his desk.

#####

Jiji, giddy with happiness from her private lunch, didn't seem to notice her melancholy mood on the way home.

"Daydreaming about your husband," she teased when Khushi had been inattentive for the third time, "Did you enjoy your lunch?"

"Arnav-ji was too busy to eat," Khushi forced a smile, "He'll eat when he can."

Jiji nodded, "It's okay. You know how hard he works."

Though she wanted to remind her sister that _she'd_ been acquainted with the family first, and had known her husband for far longer, Khushi turned to the window without a word. At home, she let Jiji do most of the talking and busied herself by sweeping the poolside at the first opportunity.

Then she cleaned the temple area, tidied the storeroom, and fussed over the laundry the _dhobi_ had returned.

"I'll go crazy sitting around all day," she waved the serving staff away when they tried to help.

She passed the hours this way until the chime of the doorbell announced the return of her husband. Then she retreated upstairs to fold and put away their clothes, dreading the confrontation she knew was coming.

Her husband entered the room in silence, standing next to the bed and placing a tiffin on the bedside table before turning to regard her. She studied his shoes.

 _You're not supposed to be angry. Not at me. Not anymore._

When Arnav-ji left the bedroom on a sigh, she slid their clothes into the wardrobe and sat on the edge of the bed to reply to a message from her mother. The door clicked open, signalling his return. She looked up when she heard something scrape against the carpet.

"The entire family knows we're not talking," he mentioned casually.

He dragged the sofa next to the bed and then did the same with the small white table. A large silver tray sat covered on the table.

"They asked if you wanted dinner," he elaborated as he worked, "and I said I'd take a tray. Di worried you were unwell after all the work you did today. So I had to tell her."

 _Oh._

She looked at the tray. He spoke again before she could give voice to the urge to apologise for worrying Di.

"Khushi ..." he dropped onto the sofa with a sigh, "You're going to drive me mad."

She watched curiously as he uncovered a meal. _Chaat_. Potatoes. Vegetarian _biryani_.

All her favourite things, things she'd told him about the other night.

 _Oh._

"Eat with me," Arnav-ji pushed the tray towards her.

When she didn't move towards the food, he broke off some _roti_ and picked up the potato before holding it to her lips.

"Eat."

He ran a knuckle over her cheek after she accepted. Khushi shivered, closing her eyes as heat spread through her.

"Are you angry?" she asked hesitantly.

"No."

Noticing that he didn't seem interested in feeding himself, she put her phone aside and reached for the tray.

"Then?" she broke off a piece of _roti_ and wrapped it around the _sabzi_.

He didn't answer. Khushi fed him, trying her best to keep her fingers clear of his lips.

"Some people asked for food for tomorrow as well," her voice wavered into their short silence, "They ordered things they want to eat."

"No," he prepared another morsel.

"But Arnav-ji—" her protest was cut off as he fed her again.

"No, Khushi. Once is enough."

"Why!?" she asked as soon as she was finished.

"Those are my employees. It looks ... odd ... if my wife is cooking for them."

"They're offering to pay me," she fed him.

"Hmmmpf," he swallowed quickly, "That's worse! You can't work _for_ my employees. That would be very strange for me!"

"It's not strange!"

"Khushi, if you need money then—"

"—Look, I know you keep track of all your money, and that you lent me money for the clothes and then again on _Holi_ , and I just want to make enough to repay you."

His hand froze between them, on its way to feed her again, "What?"

"I'll pay you back. I promise. I should have written it down and signed it, I know, but I promise I will. Is that for me?"

Arnav-ji fed her absently, seeming suddenly deep in thought.

"So you'll cook the food at here and take it to the office every day? Feed everyone?"

Khushi frowned as she fed him, "That doesn't sound right, does it?"

"There are kitchens there."

"So I go there in the morning, cook and feed everyone, and then leave with you in the afternoon? Like Madhu-Aunty used to? Well, without the leaving-with-you part."

"Yeah," his smile was small, "and as her replacement does now."

They mapped out a plan as they fed each other. It seemed reasonable, but doubt crawled into Khushi's mind.

"You mentioned that someone runs the canteen now. Will they mind?"

"I don't know. He seems ... unreliable."

She considered her options as she tidied up the tray.

"I ate everything but the _jalebi_ ," Arnav-ji titled the tiffin he'd placed on the bedside table towards her.

"And?" she reached for the sugar-free treats he offered.

"It was delicious."

Happiness soaked into her in a rush as he settled back on the sofa and bit into a _jalebi_.

He spoke again, "It will get you out of the house."

 _Away from Shyam-ji._

"Y-yes."

"Khushi, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Absolutely," she smiled at her husband.

Arnav-ji stood with the tray, "Okay then."

She stood as well, stopping him with a hand to his elbow.

"I'll take it down, you freshen up."

Nodding, he transferred the tray into her hands and walked to the wardrobe. Khushi carried the remains of their dinner — and his lunch — downstairs, where she was met with glad exclamations from the ladies in her family. She sat with them, enjoying the company after an afternoon spent alone, and was surprised when her husband appeared in the corridor leading to the stairs. He inclined his head towards the bedroom and left before anyone else noticed him.

Claiming tiredness, she rose to her feet to head upstairs. Arnav-ji was typing rapidly on his laptop as he lay back on the sofa — still next to the bed — and barely looked up as she entered. Unsure what she'd been expecting, Khushi crossed to the bathroom to change into a white night-suit and brush her teeth and hair.

The laptop was gone when she returned to the bedroom. Instead, Arnav-ji stared at the ceiling, one hand bent behind his head and the other draped across his middle. His hair fell into his eyes. Heat coursed through her as she noticed that his shirt had hitched up, revealing a strip of golden skin.

 _Why did you make him so handsome?_ she pouted mentally at her best friend.

Clearing her head with a cough, Khushi settled on the bed.

"What?"

He frowned, using that uncanny ability of his to read her discomfort.

"N-nothing."

But there was something. Before she could second-guess herself, she stretched to press a swift kiss to his cheek. He seemed to stop breathing altogether.

She leaned back, cheeks heating with a blush, "Thank you."

Arnav-ji hummed in response, tapping his fingers against his torso, and then suddenly reached out to capture her hand in his.

"What are you going to call it?"

" _Gupta Raizada Lunch Service_."

He snorted softly, "Why not Raizada Gupta?"

"Well ... I guess ... uhh ..."

"Forget it."

"Wait," Khushi twisted, sliding her feet under the covers as she faced him, "What about _KKGSR Dabba Service_?"

"Better," he ran his thumb over her knuckles.

Lost in his touch, she spoke without thinking, "Tell me something."

Arnav-ji twisted so he could meet her eyes, "What?"

"An-anything," she ventured, suddenly nervous, "Like ... like that other night when I told you ..."

He considered her, not unkindly, for a long moment. Then, turning, he spoke to the ceiling.

"I don't like _karela_ , but everyone assumes I do. Because ... diabetes."

Khushi tried to stifle her giggle but he heard anyway.

"Shut-up, Khushi," he smiled.

"Sorry. But ... who would believe that Arnav Singh Raizada is forced to eat _karela_?"

"I like _kheer_ , as you know," he ignored her, tightening his grip on her hand, "I like gardening."

He fell silent.

And then, as her eyelids became heavy, "I went to Laxmi Nagar after you said you were returning to Lucknow. I saw your house. There were locks on your door."

Air left her lungs all at once.

"Di wanted to go to the temple," he said by way of explanation.

Another short silence, in which she fiddled with her pillow with her free hand.

"I went looking for you on _Janmashtami_. You weren't where I left you. I thought ..." he trailed off, and only spoke again after three quick breaths, "I looked for you but you'd already returned home. I didn't come home until I knew you were okay."

In the silence, Khushi remembered the chaos of that night. Tricking him to the _puja_. His anger. Their argument. Him leaving in a squeal of a rage, spattering her with mud. The long walk home. That brief, inexplicable feeling of his nearness as she'd tried to make her Jiji smile.

 _He was really there._

"Those bangles ... I wanted you to wear something I'd gotten for you. Not NK. Me."

And while she was still recovering from the very earth tilting on its axis, Arnav-ji turned to her.

"That's enough for one night, hmm? Shall we sleep?"

She nodded, smiling a small smile as she processed everything he'd said.

Her hand was still in his, bridging the space between the bed and the sofa when sleep finally overtook her.

* * *

 _I wanted to give a heartfelt thanks to everyone who takes the time to read and to comment on_ Charade _:) S_ _pecial thanks to Perditrix and candicane26 and CelestialTitania :D_

I hope you liked this update! Please let me know what you think :)

 ** _applesauce: "_ Hey was just wondering when d next update would be...its been over two months...no hurry...just the story is too good to be abandoned:)"**

I'm so sorry! I was on holiday for eight weeks and then had to write and edit etc while experiencing some upheaval in my personal life. I would never abandon _Charade_ haha.


	34. Chapter 28: Caress

**Chapter 28: Caress**

* * *

 **Khushi**

Khushi scrunched her nose against the pain in her shoulder and arm as she opened her eyes, but the ache all but flew away as she discovered its source. Arnav-ji sprawled untidily on the sofa, his hair in disarray and mouth slightly open, still holding her hand in his.

 _This is real. It has to be. He has no reason to pretend anymore._

The realisation made her heart skip several beats. She twisted, freeing herself without waking her husband, and tiptoed to the wardrobe.

"Khushi ..."

She turned at Arnav-ji's sleepy groan just in time to see him shift and get comfortable. Happiness blossomed in her heart as she slipped into the bathroom.

He was awake when she emerged, fiddling with his phone as he waited. He greeted her softly.

"Hi."

"H-hi," her heart raced.

Her husband watched in silence as she stood at the mirror and ran her fingers through her damp hair. Then, turning to the bangle organiser Di had kindly given her, Khushi selected the orange bangles Arnav-ji had once gifted her.

 _"Those bangles ... I wanted you to wear something I'd gotten for you. Not NK. Me."_

All the time, she was aware of his gaze. She wore the yellow and orange suit that he'd intended the bangles for, last worn on Jiji's _haldi_. Her fingers trembled, and she slipped as she slid the bangles home.

"Don't you have to get ready?" she asked crossly, refusing to look in his direction.

With a chuckle, Arnav-ji swung off the sofa to gather a shirt and slacks from the wardrobe, leaving her to breathe a sigh of relief and finish getting ready in peace. When he emerged, just as she was applying _sindoor_ , Khushi watched his approach in the mirror as her heart once again did its best to leap out of her chest.

 _Hai Devi Maiyya, will I always be so affected by him?_

He wore black and black and black, and as usual, she marvelled that it all looked so different despite being the _same_. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice that he stood behind her until he placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her into himself. He was solid, warm, and his breath tickled her neck.

Something about this felt oddly familiar.

"Ready for your first day?" Arnav-ji asked softly, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

He smiled when she nodded.

"I'll take you to the markets," he offered, "and then to AR. Lalit will drive you home. I have a late international call."

"Oh," Khushi breathed, "Lalit-ji can drive me, you don't have to."

She shuddered as he slid his hands from her shoulders to her waist and pulled her even closer. He dipped his head to press a soft kiss to her cheek. She thought her heart stopped beating altogether.

"I'm your husband. It's my right."

It was only after he'd left the room that she realised what'd felt so familiar about his embrace. She'd once childishly daydreamed of him standing behind her at the same mirror, blowing into her hair before insulting her choice of _sari_.

For once, she was glad to have been proven wrong.

 _My Laad Governor is romantic after all._

#####

Around noon, Khushi rushed into her husband's cabin to deposit a small yellow container on his desk. Ignoring his pointed stare, she hurriedly marked it off her list and prepared to run back to the door.

"Khushi," his call stopped her. "Come and sit down."

She looked down at her list and up at him, conflicted.

"Sit," he frowned.

"Okay, okay, I'm sitting."

Arnav-ji spoke as she settled opposite him after placing her burdens on the floor, "How is your day going?"

"After shopping for all the vegetables and supplies, I cooked all the food in the canteen. Then I put it all into the containers. I have so much left to do, and I _still_ have to order things for tomorrow."

"Relax," he smiled, "Breathe."

"No, you don't understand! All the food is already finished. But the carrots weren't that good, that vendor is going to—"

"—Khushi—"

"—What did we decide last night? _KKGSR Dabba Service_? I have to get business cards printed. I'll ask Jija-ji to help me."

Arnav-ji stood abruptly, rounding the table in three quick strides to tower over her. She looked away, suddenly unable to breathe.

In one smooth movement, he pushed her chair backwards and leaned in, "Khushi, look at me."

She did. He was close, so close that she would only have to lean up to kiss him.

Suddenly she couldn't think of anything else. Heat gathered in places it had never pooled before she'd met him.

"Done?" Arnav-ji asked softly.

Khushi nodded, giving herself a mental shake.

"We have a small problem," he continued, "Shukla, the man who runs the canteen now, is upset that you've stolen his business."

"Oh."

Immediately, she felt wretched that she hadn't thought of the man.

"Don't worry, I'll talk to him this afternoon."

Shaking her head, Khushi placed her hand on Arnav-ji's chest. "I'll talk to him."

"I don't—"

"—I want to do this," she interrupted his protest, "I'll talk to Shukla-ji. I'm sure there's a solution."

"Khushi, you don't know this world of negotiations and contracts."

"I'm a sweet-maker's daughter and a businessman's wife," she poked his chest, "I know enough."

Though he tried to scowl, Arnav-ji couldn't stop one corner of his mouth from tilting into a smile.

"Okay, but I'll intervene if I see a need to."

"You won't need to, you'll see."

#####

The afternoon found Khushi in the kitchen, helping the servants pick what they would have for dinner. Arnav-ji's had called to say that his international teleconference had been postponed.

Her heart leapt in her chest as the front door opened.

 _He's home._

She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the tremours that ran through her body. The memory of his hands, their exquisite heat at her waist, sent a jolt of electricity through her. The low rumble of his voice as he spoke to Hari Prakash-ji reminded her of the husk of his voice as he'd spoken that morning.

 _"I'm your husband. It's my right."_

 _Husband._

She put some water on to boil and readied two cups on the counter before standing on her toes to reach the canister of coffee. Hari Prakash-ji had taught her to make it just the way Arnav-ji took it. Black, no sugar.

He came into the kitchen as she finished up, "Hi."

 _Oh Devi Maiyya._

Her voice wobbled as she responded, "H-how was your day at the office?"

"Long," he leaned against the counter, watching her intently as she packed up, "even without the international call."

She handed him the cup, "Coffee?"

Accepting it with a small smile, he took a sip before placing it beside him on the counter.

"You know you don't have to do this, right? There are lots of people in this house who are paid to do things like this."

"I'm your wife," she took half a step towards him, "it's my right."

He smiled at the echo of his words from this morning, "Okay then, _Wife_ , tell me what happened with Shukla."

She launched into an explanation of how she and Shukla-ji had decided to share the burden of the _dabba_ service. He would take charge of the shopping and delivery, leaving her free to prepare menus and cook.

"Sounds like everything worked out," Arnav-ji drained his coffee.

Settling next to him, she rested her weight on the countertop as she drank from her cup, "Yes. And Nani-ji gave her blessing for the business, so now everything's fine."

"Hmm," turning, he used a light finger to tuck a curl of hair behind her ear, "okay."

"Wh-what ... are you ..."

"Ssshhh," he soothed, now tracing her cheek, "Thank you for the coffee."

Her mind struggled for an explanation for this sudden change in demeanour.

 _Maybe someone is watching us._

Arnav-ji stepped forward just as she thought to look. His eyes didn't leave hers as his hands came up to rest on the countertop, trapping her where she stood. Her gaze dropped to his shoulder. She inhaled the soft, earthy scent of him every breath, her heart hammering and palms suddenly sweaty. Though a part of her was aware that he was only doing this because someone was watching their every move, it seemed that her thoughts had frozen.

"At least pretend that you like me," his murmur brought her back to the present.

Some emotion squeezed at her chest as she nodded. Khushi stared up at her husband, noting vaguely that his hair was getting too long. Her fingers trembled against the soft fabric of his waistcoat. He gave a soft sound of approval that set her aflame.

He leaned forward, so near that he was sure to hear the rapid thunder of her pulse, and then his eyes dropped to her mouth as her lips parted. His gaze seemed to darken. She suddenly felt light-headed with his nearness.

Afterwards, she would claim that she forgot. That the pressure of keeping up so many pretences had frazzled her thoughts. That she had, momentarily, been unable to tell the difference between Real and Not Real.

It took the slightest movement, the smallest tilt of her head and hips and shoulders, and then her lips brushed against his.

A moment passed, a moment in which she didn't even dare draw breath, and then he dipped his head to do the same. She was instantly filled with warmth and electricity. Her fingers twisted into his clothes as he grazed her mouth with his, the action surer than when she had done it. But he did not kiss her, not in the way she'd imagined him kissing her since that encounter last Diwali.

Arnav-ji straightened, and it seemed that the world came rushing back in the next instant — the quiet murmur of conversation, the muted din of Delhi traffic. They stared at one another for a beat before he offered his hand.

"Upstairs. Now."

He pulled her along, ignoring the bewildered looks of a couple of servants in the corridor, and released her only when they were in the bedroom. Khushi locked the doors, heart pounding.

 _Is he going to kiss me again?_

But there was none of the warmth and gentleness she'd expected when he faced her. She quailed, retreating until her back hit the doors, and he followed, placing a hand near her head to trap her where she stood. The steps of this dance now familiar, she was unsurprised when he caged her against the door by cutting off her only avenue of escape as she turned.

And though he stood just as close as he'd been in the kitchen, there was something altogether different about his nearness now. She fixed her gaze on his shoulder, suddenly afraid of what she might read in his eyes.

 _Regret? Anger? Or something else?_

"What did you just do?" his tone was roughened by emotion.

The atmosphere between them seemed charged.

Khushi's pulse stalled, "Wh-what?"

The scent of him threatened to overpower her as he leaned in, "What was that?"

A deep breath, "Nothing!"

Arnav-ji crowded her against the doors, clearly unimpressed, "Khushi, tell me."

"I thought someone was watching us," she blurted.

It was only half the truth, and she instantly regretted her words.

Her husband leaned back, "You thought someone was watching us?"

Something in his tone, a tremble perhaps, prompted her to finally meet his eyes. She stopped breathing.

 _"He ... he told me it was all a lie. A distraction."_

 _"I can't tell anymore. It never goes away, his voice."_

The realisation that she'd committed the gravest error caused her to sag against the doors.

"N-no, Ar-Arnav-ji ..."

But he already turning away. Arnav-ji snatched up his car keys from the table and headed to the poolside doors.

 _No._

She ran, reaching him just he started to open the sliding door and stretched around him to push it closed again.

"Get lost!"

"No," Khushi slid her arms around him and pressed herself into his back, "No ... I ... I didn't mean ..."

 _I wanted to kiss you._

 _I want you to kiss me._

 _I love you._

But the words wouldn't form on her tongue.

How easy it had been to dream about saying these things to him, to dream of his happy, accepting response.

And how difficult it was to say them now when everything seemed wrong.

Arnav-ji raised his hands to close them over hers with a sigh, "Khushi ..."

"I'm sorry," she tried to speak around the sobs that threatened to take over.

He turned carefully and threaded the fingers of one hand into her hair as she continued.

"I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry I didn't tell you when I found out. I'm sorry I didn't tell you afterwards. I'm sorry. If I'd just ... if I'd just told you then ... but I was ... I was so scared. I didn't know what to do."

"I would have helped you," he spoke softly, leaning his forehead against hers, "I wish you'd trusted me."

"I did. I do. I ... just ..."

Arnav-ji folded her close, his arms tight around her as her tears overflowed, "Ssshhh. Okay, don't cry."

But then, after a few moments of silence, "Was I so bad, Khushi?"

She looked up. His hands framed her face gently.

"Was I so unapproachable? So cold? That you didn't come to me the moment you found out?"

"N-no, Arnavi-ji, that's not—"

"— That you didn't tell me when my own sister ..."

The last of her hesitation disappeared, "I was afraid."

"Because of Aakash and Payal?"

"Yes," she whispered her confession, "And because of ... y-you. I didn't want ... I ... I ..."

 _I love you._

"Ssshhh" he soothed.

Khushi thought back to that day, to Anjali-ji's broken _mangalsutra_ and tears as she fretted about Shyam-ji, to her own hesitation and then decision not to tell her, to Arnav-ji's care and worry at the poolside the day before.

And to a deep, hidden fear, unacknowledged until this moment.

 _I was afraid of his reaction._

 _I was afraid of losing him._

There had been a moment — brief and fleeting and instantly buried — in which she'd realised that revealing her part in Shyam-ji's deception might close his heart to her forever.

 _But he was going to marry Lavanya-ji_ , a small voice argued.

 _But he drove to the temple to bandage my finger. He was hurt when he found out about my engagement._

"I didn't want to hurt you," Khushi's voice was soft, "I didn't want you to think that I ... that I was ..."

"I would never."

"You almost did. That night ..."

"That night I was angry," he looked away, "I was hurt. I thought I saw ..."

"What if I hadn't told you?" she gripped his collar, "What would you have done if I hadn't come to you?"

Her husband closed his eyes, shaking his head as he took a deep breath. He was silent for a long time. When he spoke, it was a whisper she had to lean up to hear.

"I don't know what I would have been capable of."

"Arnav-j—"

"—But I would have found my back to you, Khushi."

He opened his eyes. Her heart faltered on seeing tears.

"I would have found my way back."

* * *

 _As always, a heartfelt thanks to everyone who takes the time to read and to comment on_ Charade _:)_


	35. Chapter 29: Compromise

**Chapter 29: Compromise**

* * *

 **Khushi**

Arnav-ji had not returned for dinner.

"Khushi, I brought something to snack on."

The international call he'd postponed the day before had taken so long that he'd ordered dinner at the office.

Khushi glanced at her phone before taking the bowl of _channa_ her sister offered. They were in the study, and the latest episode of _Rabba Ve_ was about to start.

"Do you think she'll confront him?" Jiji asked, referring to the heroine.

"She asked for one chance and she got it. She has to give him a piece of her mind."

"Sagar won't know what's coming!"

"He's so mean," Khushi giggled. "He deserves it. But I don't think the actor is very good. Maybe this show won't be very interesting."

Jiji shoved her gently, "It's only the first week, give it a chance."

"I am!"

They quieted as the disclaimer appeared on the screen. The scene picked up exactly where it had left off, with the two protagonists facing off in the middle of the _bazaar_.

"I like his voice," Khushi conceded as the hero baited the heroine.

"At least it's shot in Lucknow," Jiji sighed, "I miss our home."

The ad break came right after the heroine's big speech, and Khushi glanced at her phone again.

"Call him," Jiji had noticed, "I'll tell you when it starts again."

Stepping into the corridor, she found Arnav-ji's name and hovered her thumb over the call button, pressing it after a brief hesitation. He answered on the third ring.

"Yeah, Khushi?"

"A-Arnav-ji? I ... uhh ... "

"Are you alright? Did something happen?"

"Oh ... oh no. I just ... I mean ..."

He spoke after a few beats of silence, "Are you being a wife right now, Khushi?"

"Y-yes."

"I'll be home in an hour."

"Have ... have you had your medicine?"

"Yes."

Another short silence, in which Khushi wondered what other wives said to their husbands. And whether those husbands were as romantic as the heroes she'd seen in films.

"Is he ... who else is home?" Arnav-ji interrupted her thoughts.

"It's just us," she assured him, hearing the concern in his voice, "Jiji and I are watching a new serial and everyone else is downstairs. It feels very quiet without Nanhe-ji."

"Alright, enjoy yourself. I have to get back but I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay," she breathed, "Take care of yourself."

"You too," he ended the call.

Khushi stared at the phone for a few seconds before rejoining her sister, who smiled up at her.

"You haven't missed anything except the dramatic music and lots of reaction shots. Sagar didn't like being lectured."

"He wouldn't," she flopped onto the sofa.

" _Khoon Bhari_ —" Mami-ji came up the stairs, "Oh, what are you watching?"

"Maa-ji!" Jiji stood, adjusting her _pallu_ as she spoke, "Is everything okay?"

"I ..." Mami-ji tilted her head to see around Jiji, "I came to see ... but ... but what are you watching?"

"It's a new serial, Mami-ji!" Khushi grinned, " _Rabba Ve_."

" _Rabba ... Ve ..._?"

"Do you want to watch with us?" Jiji offered, "Look, the hero is making a speech."

"Well ... maybe for five minutes," Mami-ji sat, "Just this once."

#####

Almost two hours later, Khushi paced the length of the bedroom, furiously biting her nails as she considered.

 _No, Khushi, it's crazy._

 _What would Bua-ji say if she knew?_

 _Hai Devi Maiyya, how would Bua-ji find out?_

Arnav-ji was in the bathroom, preparing for bed, and she — teeth brushed, hair plaited and changed into a pale pink night-suit — was making a decision.

Or rather, she was agonising over a decision long made.

 _Please help me, Devi Maiyya._

Scurrying to the sofa, Khushi gathered Arnav-ji's blanket and pillow in her arms and hauled them over to the bed, where she hurriedly arranged them. Stepping back, she considered her handiwork with a critical eye before straightening the pillow.

The tap in the bathroom shut off.

Her heart-rate skyrocketed.

She leapt onto the bed and hid under her blanket, closing her eyes and mouthing a silent prayer as the bathroom door opened. Arnav-ji's footsteps padded on the carpet as he approached the sofa.

He stopped.

Her breath stalled in her lungs. Their silence stretched, becoming heavy with regret as every passing moment heightened her distress.

he spoke at length, his voice soft, "Are you sure?"

There was something in his tone, a tremble perhaps, that made her brave enough to peek her head out.

"Yes," she avoided his eyes.

He stayed where he was, considering her in silence, and she assumed he was trying to read her. And then, finally, he slid in beside her with a sigh. Khushi closed her eyes as relief flooded her.

 _He wants it to be real, just like I do._

They both lay frozen, staring at the ceiling. The only sounds in the room were the dim hum on the air conditioner and Arnav-ji's shallow breaths. She was aware of him, all six feet of him, as if the darkness had somehow magnified his already overwhelming presence.

 _It should be simple, normal, to share a bed with my husband._

But it wasn't.

Resigning herself to a sleepless, awkward night, Khushi began to replay Salman-ji's latest movie trailer in her mind. Her husband's voice interrupted her happy recollection.

"Khushi?"

"Hmm?" she turned to him.

He was mostly a dim outline, but his eyes glittered with reflected moonlight from the poolside.

"Come here."

Though his words were a command, his tone was not.

She scooted over without protest, sure the sudden pounding of her heart would bruise her ribs, and allowed him to wrap his arms around her. She listened to the rhythm of his heart.

"Should I sleep on the sofa?" his voice was a rumble in his chest.

"No," her reply was firm.

"Then why are you so tense?"

Khushi curled her fingers into his white night-shirt as she put together her response. It was easier to tell the truth when she couldn't see him.

"I'm not tense," she said, "I'm nervous. It's new."

"It's not," his objection was good-natured, "we've done this before."

"That was an accident," she countered, "and this ..."

 _Is not._

To her surprise, Arnav-ji gave a small laugh, "Would you prefer if we pretended it was an accident?"

"No more pretending," she said sharply, remembering her thoughts on that other morning, "I thought ... That morning I thought ..."

Arnav-ji stiffened, "You thought?"

"You called me _babe_. I thought you were dreaming of another woman," she confessed in a rush.

Silence.

Arnav-ji breathed deeply, his chest expanding smoothly against hers as he shifted. She released him, half fearful of his response.

"There's only you," he said, "Don't you know that?"

Khushi raised herself on an elbow to look at him.

"You're the only thing that's right in my life," he said simply.

Tangling his fingers into her hair, Arnav-ji gently guided her down until they were breathing the same air. Her hair fell in a curtain around them.

"Is this okay?" he whispered.

She nodded. He traced a finger from her temple to her cheek. Heat coiled in her tummy as he pressed his thumb against her lip.

"I'm going to finish what you started in the kitchen yesterday."

"Okay," Khushi shuddered.

She melted into him with a sigh when he pressed his lips to hers and curled her fingers into his shirt as he kissed her. He was gentle and slow, sure in every action. The feel of his tongue against hers inspired a whimper. He tasted of mint.

Seeming to know when she was out of breath, he moved to her neck and gently sucked on the delicate skin there. She couldn't stop a moan.

"Ssshhhh," he kissed her jaw with a chuckle.

He tutored her patiently, whispering encouragements as she gathered her courage and kissed him. His cheek, his jaw, his neck. Sitting up, he whipped his shirt over his head before joining her under the covers, guiding her trembling fingers to his skin and urging her to explore as she wished. She marvelled at the way his body seemed both familiar and unfamiliar. He groaned as her fingers traced around his torso and across his back.

He didn't seem to need her to do the same; though he kissed along her collarbone and traced his hands on her sides, he didn't attempt to remove her _kurta_. And though she felt achy and heavy with need, she couldn't find the courage to ask him to.

A long, long time later, he slowed their kisses and enveloped her in his arms, her head again on his shoulder.

"You're in ... you're in my every breath, Khushi."

His truth could only be met with another truth.

"It was always you," Khushi spoke quietly. "Always."

His only response was to glide his hands down to her hips and then lower to her bottom. He squeezed. She made a sound that began as a gasp and ended in a giggle.

"Sleep," he ordered, a smile in his voice.

"How can I?" she asked, wiggling in his grip, "when you're ..."

"Get used to it."

But he slid his hands up to rest on her back. Her breathing evened out to match his as the warmth and comfort of his embrace lulled her into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 _ **A friendly reminder that this story will NOT update to a schedule.**_ _Please don't comment asking for more updates, it will only upset me at a time when things are very difficult._

* * *

 _As always, a heartfelt thanks to everyone who takes the time to read and to comment on_ Charade _, especially_ candicane26 _and_ booknerdforlife21 _for leaving such nice reviews :)_


	36. Chapter 30: Closer

**Chapter 30: Closer**

* * *

 **Khushi**

The next evening, Khushi sighed as she leaned back into the pillows scattered on the sitting room sofa. Di looked up from her knitting.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh yes, just uhh ... tired."

Having spent the day cooking, delivering, cleaning and shopping for her _dabba_ service, Khushi had returned home to find the ladies of the household engaged in solitary pursuits. Di was knitting. Jiji and Nani-ji were choosing a blanket for Di's _Rajkumari_. Mami-ji was eating a salad while flipping through a magazine.

"Didn't _Chhote_ let you sleep last night?" Di leaned over to whisper.

"Di!" Khushi gasped as he cheeks instantly heated, "What are you ... I'm tired because I worked all morning."

 _And because Arnav-ji woke me up early to kiss me again._

But Di didn't need to know that.

Nor did she need to know about the kiss he'd bestowed at the front door, his fingers roaming across her body and a groan on his lips as he reluctantly pulled away.

"My mistake," Di's smirk was uncannily like her brother's, but she was diverted by Jiji before she could continue her teasing.

"We've chosen this one for your _Rajkumari_ ," Jiji handed over a sky blue blanket, "and I'll embroider it for her."

"Oh, Payal-ji, this is wonderful. She'll love it! I'll wrap her in it when we bring her home."

Khushi leaned forward eagerly, "Jiji is the best at embroidery! People used to especially ask for her _saris_ when she was helping with Bua-ji's business."

"We are lucky to have such talented _bahus_ ," Nani-ji nodded.

"But I wish I could do that," Khushi indicated to Di's knitting.

"Would you like to learn?" Di laughed.

"Yes, please!"

Mami-ji sniffed her disapproval, "When will she have time to learn? Busy as she is with her _bijjiness_."

"I'm only gone from the house in the morning," Khushi smiled in reply, "I'll learn in the afternoons and evenings. Thank you for offering to teach me, Di."

"It will come in handy when you and _Chhote_ have your own children."

Blushing, Khushi stretched for a magazine and hid behind it while the others giggled and tittered. She only emerged when her sister addressed her.

"Oh, Khushi, I just remembered. Amma called this morning while you were out and she sends her love."

"Is Babu-ji alright?!" her pulse quickened in fear.

"Yes, yes, he's fine. She said they're taking him to the specialist tomorrow for a regular checkup."

"Oh."

Further conversation was prevented by the ring of the doorbell. Khushi's pulse skittered as an awareness crept over her.

"Must be _Chhote_ and Aakash," Di craned her neck as Hari Prakash-ji opened the door.

Sure enough, the men entered the sitting area shortly, both looking as tired as Khushi felt.

"Aakash- _bitwa_ ," Mami-ji slid her plate and magazine away, "you look unwell!"

Aakash-ji flopped onto a vacant seat, "No, Maa, just exhausted."

" _Khoon-Bh_ ... I mean, Payal- _bitiya_ , make him some _chai_ , will you?"

"Yes, Maa-ji. Arnav-ji, do you want anything?"

"HP is already making my coffee," he responded with a tired smile, "and he'll prepare the tea as well."

"Lucky _bahus_ indeed," Mami-ji muttered, "Never have to lift a finger!"

"You're a _bahu_ of this household too," Nani-ji retorted coldly, "and I am yet to see you lifting a finger."

There was a beat of uncomfortable silence, into which Arnav-ji spoke softly.

"Khushi?"

He indicated for her to approach with a tilt of his head, and whispered to her when she was close enough.

"HP is bringing me some fruit and my headache pills. My sugar is a little low but I don't want to worry Di."

"Oh," she peered at her husband in concern.

"I'm fine. Just sit with me."

"What's all this whispering?" Di had noticed, "What are you saying that can't be heard by us?"

"That he needs a head-massage!" Khushi said brightly.

"What the—?!"

"Just sit here," she guided him to the sofa, "and let me handle the rest!"

"No!"

"Yes!" she said firmly.

In a few short minutes, Om Prakash-ji had delivered some oil and she was positioned behind the sofa.

"Khushi, stop it!" he swatted her hand away.

"Just eat your fruit," she popped a piece into his mouth, silencing his protest.

He quieted as she worked. The general murmur of conversation swept over them but Khushi paid it no mind, her thoughts focused on the man slowly falling asleep in front of her.

That is, until Nani-ji directed a question to Jiji.

"Payal- _bitiya_ , those specialists you mentioned. Do they think your Babu-ji will recover soon?"

"Yes," Jiji answered, "They're happy with his progress."

"How can your Amma and Bua-ji afford to see them?" Mami-ji asked snidely, "Surely her _sari_ _bijjiness_ is not doing that well?"

Khushi cleared her throat, "The hospital said it's covered as part of their treatment, Mami-ji. There's nothing more to pay."

"That sounds ..." Di frowned, "I don't understand."

Arnav-ji stood without warning, disappearing upstairs without even glancing towards her. Khushi's heart sank.

 _Oh Devi Maiyya, I was only trying to make his headache better._

"Oh," Di muttered, "Now I understand."

And slowly, Khushi understood as well.

She found him standing at the poolside, hands in his pockets as he contemplated the water.

"Arnav-ji?"

She took a deep breath and stepped forward when he didn't respond.

"Will you answer a question?"

"Don't do this, Khushi," he turned away. "Not right now."

She took a few small steps forward. "Are you ... are you paying Babu-ji's bills?"

"I don't want to talk about this."

"But I want to talk about it."

They stood at an impasse for several moments.

"Babu-ji took me in when I was eight years old," her voice wavered, "I was scared, I didn't know what was happening. He would take me to his shop and let me sit by him as he made all sorts of sweets. When I was ten, he let me make _jalebi_ for the shop for the first time. They sold before half the day was done."

She reached for Arnav-ji's hand as he turned.

"I left him. How could I leave him? He would never leave me."

"Khushi ... that's ..." he tugged her closer. "You know that's not what happened."

"He used to say that he wouldn't look for a groom when the time came, that he always wanted me by his side. I said ..." she gave a watery giggle, "I said I didn't want to get married anyway."

He folded her gently against his chest, "Ssshhh."

"I wish," her words were muffled against his clothes, "I wish he could've given me away. What we did ... he didn't get to give me away."

Arnav-ji inhaled deeply, "I'm paying for his treatment and medicine, yes. I asked them not to tell you. I just wanted you to have one less thing to worry about."

"Why?"

He stood in silence, though his arms tightened around her.

"Why?" she asked more forcefully.

"Let me do this. It's my duty as his _damaad_."

 _Be careful, don't push him away._

And yet, she ignored the warning of her heart.

"But you weren't. Not then."

Abruptly, Arnav-ji released her to walk to the other side of the poolside. They stood in the darkness with only the light of the stars to illuminate them. Khushi waited ... and waited ... and started to retreat inside with a sigh.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked when her hand was on the glass door.

She froze as he continued, moving towards her.

"What do you want to hear, Khushi? That I wanted ... That there was a moment when I saw your family accept Aakash, that I thought ... I wished ..."

He was standing behind her when he finished, his hands a cage as they came to rest on the glass.

Arnav-ji met her eyes in the reflection, "What do you need to hear?"

 _That you want me. That you want a future with me._

 _That you love me._

But she found that the memory of his words the night before — _"You're in my every breath, Khushi."_ — were enough.

"Nothing," she said softly, "There are just so many things I still don't know about you."

She turned and burrowed into his chest to breathe him in, "Thank you, for Babu-ji."

He held her, humming contentedly for a moment before speaking, "No. Thank me properly."

Khushi peered up, "What?"

"I don't need your thanks," he murmured, "but if you want to thank me then you should do so as a wife."

Frowning, she began to ask exactly what he meant when he pressed the pad of his thumb to her bottom lip.

"As a wife," his voice was low as he stroked his thumb across her flesh.

She nodded slowly, her heart pounding, and waited until he'd removed his thumb to lean up and press her lips to his. He seemed to shudder before returning her kiss, his fingers tightening where they gripped her as he groaned. He leaned into her, so close that she felt his body swell brazenly against her stomach. His kisses trailed from her mouth to her jaw and neck as his hands moved to her chest. Feeling brave, she unbuttoned his waistcoat and smoothed her hands over his shirt. Arnav-ji helped by loosening his tie and unbuttoning the shirt. His gaze was hungry. Warmth pooled between her legs.

He guided her mouth back to his, his kiss both demanding and reassuring in a way she hadn't thought possible. The heat of his body contrasted with the cool glass at her back as he pressed her further into the door. She explored the hard planes and muscle of his body, nails scratching his skin and making him groan. He returned to her neck, sucking gently at her skin, and she arched as his hand found her breast. She muffled a moan against his shoulder.

"Ah," he said softly, "I see."

She became heavy and achy as he focussed on her breasts, seeming to know exactly what she needed. His mouth worked lower, tracing her _mangalsutra_ before teasing the neckline of her dress. He noticed when her legs trembled, threatening to give out, and slid his knee between hers to prop her up. Her nails dug into his skin as her hands curled inwards. The exquisite heat built, and her thoughts froze on a shocking, outrageous thought.

That he should touch her _there_ , where she ached and throbbed the most.

As if he'd heard, Arnav slid a hand to the small of her back and pushed her closer, the angle such that his body pressed against hers with agonising deliciousness. It was only when his fingers traced the zipper on her _kameez_ that Khushi regained the ability to think. She gently pulled away.

"Babe?" he buried his face against her neck, breathing hard.

"We're outside," Khushi whispered, "and someone will come looking for us for dinner."

Chuckling, Arnav-ji grazed his teeth on her earlobe before speaking against her cheek.

"Let's go inside then," he lowered his tone suggestively. "It will be more comfortable."

She tried to hide as heat rose to her cheeks. He relented.

"Okay," he pressed a kiss to her temple. "But you go downstairs first. I have a situation I need to deal with."

She gave a small nod and turned in his embrace, pushing open the sliding door before stepping inside. Her body protested the loss of his warmth.

"Khushi."

Turning, she saw that he'd followed her inside.

"You said there are still many things you don't know about me. You only need to ask. I'll tell you everything."

He traced a finger across her cheek before lifting her mouth to his. The kiss was gentle and sweet.

"Go," he said against her lips. "Or I won't let you leave all night."

Her body sang as she left their bedroom.


	37. Interlude: Alchemy

_Author's Note: This chapter has been a long time in the making. Sharing it is both terrifying and exhilarating. Please be gentle._

 **Interlude: Alchemy**

* * *

 **Arnav**

The contract he was reading seemed to blur. Arnav rubbed his eyes, utterly fed up with the antics of the supplier they were currently in negotiations with. And his plans for the rest of the evening left little time for a careful read-through.

 _I already hate this blasted wedding reception and it hasn't even started_.

In fact, he thought he hated the wedding altogether.

Khushi had left the running of her _dabba_ service to Shukla while she attended the festivities with the rest of the family, which meant that he no longer saw her during the day. Any hopes he'd entertained about evenings spent at their private poolside had also been dashed. Instead, she'd been occupied with Payal and the rest of the family - organising outfits and presents and whatever else was required - and came to bed only when exhaustion forced her.

The combination of gruelling hours at work and an inability to sleep until she was in his arms meant that he was exhausted right alongside her.

He stifled a yawn as Khushi stepped into the room holding a tray and shouldered the door closed behind her. The tray held a single cup and a plate of _samosas_. She smiled as she placed it on the table before turning towards the bathroom.

Affection surged in his heart. "Where's yours?"

She turned, expression quizzical.

"Where's your tea?" Arnav elaborated, "Am I to eat and drink alone?"

"I ... I didn't ... I have to get ready."

"Come here."

He pulled her into his lap, ignoring her small noise of surprise as he settled her comfortably. Then he stretched for the cup and held it to her lips.

"Drink some with me."

Her eyes didn't leave his as she sipped. Arnav cleared his throat as his body stirred.

 _Damn, I miss her._

"How did you spend the day?" he asked, bringing the cup to his mouth.

He tightened his grip as Khushi shifted her weight, "Di took us to the temple in the morning and then we shopped for a few last-minute things."

"Did you use the money I gave you?"

Khushi nodded, sipping again from the cup as he offered it.

Arnav set the cup on the table after finishing the last of the tea, "What are you wearing tonight?"

"The _sari_ I bought. Black with a pink border."

"I'm a dead man," he groaned.

The blouse she'd picked was tiny. Almost non-existent. He felt himself harden at the mere thought.

Khushi giggled, "It's black. That way we'll match."

"Oh yeah?" he laughed.

He pulled her in for a kiss, liking the way her fingers dug into his shoulder. She gasped when he bit her bottom lip gently, allowing him to slide his tongue against hers. She was a balm to the tumult inside him. Her hands moved restlessly under his sweater, seeking entry into his shirt.

He allowed his own hands to explore. Her shoulders, her neck, her collarbone.

Khushi made a quiet sound, arching towards him in an unmistakable demand for more. And despite countless promises to himself to take it slow, he was powerless to deny her. First, Arnav adjusted their positions so she straddled him as he leaned against the back of the sofa. She gasped with surprise.

He traced patterns at her waist, "Ssshhh, I've got you."

Twisting her hands between them, she looked down as her cheeks reddened. Arnav stilled the motion by placing his hand over hers. And then, as she watched, he unrolled his sleeves in a series of swift motions before stripping off his sweater. Khushi's eyes seemed to ignite with desire when he guided her fingers to his shirt and helped her unbuttoned it. Her reaction fueled his own. Her trembling fingers explored, her eyes hooded and her breath coming in pants. She traced his nipple. He throbbed.

Sometimes he felt that words only got in the way when it came to Khushi. And certainly, it seemed that way as he pulled her closer to kiss along her jaw and under her ear, finding the sensitive spot she liked so much.

 _I missed you._

Instantly, she went limp, clutching his sides as she buried her face against his neck, her breath hot on his skin. She whispered his name. Cupping her breast, he savoured the small noise she made as he circled the hardened peak he found easily through the fabric.

She moved her hips, seeking friction, and his desire threatened to escape the chains that bound it.

"Haaarrriiii Praakkaaassshhh! Hello, hi, bye-bye, what's the point of all these servants if none are ever around when you need them?"

They froze. Fear crept into her eyes as she looked at him in the sudden quiet. But the bustle of Mami's footsteps disappeared down the corridor without stopping.

"Shit," he breathed, realizing their door wasn't locked.

He gathered Khushi close, threading his fingers into her hair as she trembled against him, still breathing hard. It was a long while before he could think properly.

"Better start getting ready," he kissed her cheek. "We have to leave soon."

Standing her on her feet, Arnav locked the door so they could get ready for the function in privacy. When he turned back, however, he saw that Khushi hadn't moved.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head, hiding her face with her hair as she went to the wardrobe. Within seconds, he was next to her and lifting her chin so he could see her eyes.

"Khushi?" his heart stilled as he noted tears, "What happened?"

She hid in his chest instead of answering, her embrace tight and her silence bewildering. He rubbed soothing circles onto her back as he replayed the last few minutes, trying to understand what had changed. His hand slipped down to her hip. She trembled as her breath caught. He considered her reaction with a frown before sliding his hand up and around to rest where her ribcage ended. Another tremble.

Clarity slammed into him.

He had learned, in the months since she'd first fallen into his life, to restrain his desire with a will of iron. To keep it tightly within his control, to take things at her pace. He had learned, somewhat clumsily, to read her signals: when she needed space and when she was ready for more. He had learned not to push for more than she was willing to share.

But right now, she wanted more.

His body pulsed at the prospect even as his mind asked whether it was wise.

"Khushi ..."

She pressed closer, her fingers clawing into his skin. Aware that she was vulnerable, drugged by the strange alchemy of lust, Arnav tried to step back. But he was undone when she made a small sound, almost a moan. There had been another time when she'd been this willing to explore the desire that burned between them. An evening that still haunted him with the promise of what it could have been.

Arnav led his wife to the sofa, leaving her briefly to close the curtains and shut out the view of where he'd left her on _Diwali_.

 _Never again_.

Then he returned to her, settling on the sofa and pulling her down so she straddled him, exactly as she'd been before he'd allowed them to be interrupted.

"I'm not leaving you," he brushed his lips against hers. "I'm here."

It was what she needed. She kissed him - hard - and he opened his mouth to let her explore as she wished. When her hands fluttered over his shoulders before finding their way into his shirt, Arnav groaned and took control of their kiss so he could taste her again. Her touch - which had earlier been soft and tentative - became possessive and demanding as she grew bolder. He swore into her mouth.

She was wearing one of the new outfits, the ones with an overcoat that tied in front over a sleeveless dress. Air froze in his lungs when he tugged on the knot so it fell open. Khushi closed her eyes as he slid the material off her and dropped it carelessly next to the sofa. Then he ran his hands up and down her arms before leaning up to press light kisses to her neck.

"Does it ache?" he whispered into her ear. "Do you need me to make it better?"

Despite her bright blush, she nodded, pressing even closer.

He smiled, kissing her jaw, "Then I need you to be very quiet."

He worked his way down, kissing and licking her skin until he met the neckline of the dress. She whimpered as he slid his hands up her stomach, her breath hitching and then stopping altogether as he reached his destination. Her head fell back as she arched. He shaped her with his hands. Her sounds became louder when he found her nipples through the fabric.

 _Fuck._

Leaning forward, he took her into his mouth and sucked through the dress as he unzipped it. Khushi moaned into his shoulder as he slid it off her shoulders and bunched it around her hips. Then he attacked her bra, taking only a moment to admire the pink lace before it joined the overcoat on the floor. She was gorgeous, her eyes closed and her head tipped back as she gripped his shoulders.

Taking her nipple into his mouth again, he rolled the other between his fingers. He watched her. When she bit her lip to muffle herself, he pressed his lips to hers and swallowed her sounds of pleasure instead. Her answering kiss was messy, her hands unfocused as they moved over his body. She stroked her nails across his stomach, her touch both agony and delight.

He said her name against her mouth, unable to stop the rocking motion of his hips as he sought friction. A low moan was her only response, the heavy silk of her hair sliding across his skin as she moved with him. Placing a hand on her knee, he savoured her tremble as he worked up her thigh. She made a small, begging sound when he paused, driving him towards his destination until he touched her through the thin tights she wore. Khushi said in his name amidst inarticulate noises.

Realizing that she wasn't going to last much longer, Arnav slipped his hand into her waistband. He slid a finger along and inside her just in time to feel her contract. She cried out sharply as she fell, dropping her head to his shoulder as he circled his thumb around her to extend her pleasure.

She calmed slowly, her body limp in exhaustion and satiation. The general bustle of the household filtered into their silence. He became aware of just how _not-quiet_ they'd been.

"Arnav?" her soft murmur interrupted his thoughts.

His heart sped up at the realisation that she'd taken his name without the _-ji_ outside of their intimacy, but he forced himself not to react.

"Hmm? You back with me?" he teased instead.

His grip tightened as she hid her face and groaned in embarrassment.

"What were you about to say?" he prompted when it became clear that she wasn't going to continue.

"You really don't want me to wear the black _sari_?" she curled into him, sounding sleepy.

He thought back to their earlier conversation, "No, it's fine. It's perfect for the reception. And like you said, we'll match."

Khushi didn't reply. He looked down to see that she'd closed her eyes.

"Babe, don't fall asleep. We have to leave soon."

She moaned a protest, snuggling closer. He smiled.

"Okay, I'll tell Di we aren't doing."

"No!" she stirred, "I have to go with Jiji."

Arnav quirked an eyebrow, "With your Jiji, not with me?"

"Hush!"

He pulled her back down when she started to get up, kissing her softly before helping her back into her dress. Hurrying to the wardrobe to gather her things, Khushi blew him a kiss before disappearing into the bathroom. Arnav tried to banish the images that ran through his head as he imagined her under the water. It was not helping his ... _situation_. Instead, he forced himself to think of contracts and spreadsheets until he could walk again.

At the wardrobe, he fished out a small parcel that had gone untouched since he'd brought it home a few days ago. He pulled out a black tie with a single dark pink stripe running diagonally across it. It was not much, but it would match the _sari_ perfectly. Then he selected his suit and shirt — all varying shades of black as his wife had predicted — and was contemplating how Khushi would react if he tried to join her when a knock sounded at the door.

" _Chhote_! Khushi-ji! Are you ready?"

Arnav hurriedly buttoned his shirt and smoothed down his hair before opening the door. Di seemed ready to go.

"Does Khushi-ji need any help?" she craned her neck. "And look at you! You haven't even changed!"

He stepped outside and closed the door so she wouldn't see the few clothes still piled around the sofa, "We're running a little late, Di. Just a few more minutes."

She eyed him sceptically, "Okay. We'll go with Nani, Mami and Mama, and you two can come with Aakash and Payal-ji."

When she was gone, Arnav tidied up their clothes before knocking on the bathroom door, "Khushi? Are you okay?"

A short pause, and then, "Yes!"

"We're taking Aakash and Payal," he informed her.

"Okay," the door swung open, "I'm ready!"

His eyes travelled down her body. She was breathtaking in black and pink. And that blouse really was tiny. Arnav ran a finger across her cheek, watching the way she closed her eyes and struggled to breathe. Her mouth was pliant and encouraging under his. Khushi shuddered, deepening their kiss, and the _situation_ he thought he'd dealt with came back in full force.

 _Oh hell._

"Babe," he broke away. "I _really_ need to shower."

"Oh!" she blushed. "We're late!"

Arnav smiled. Some days ago, her nonchalance about his _situation_ by the poolside doors had birthed a suspicion that she was unaware of the mechanics of his body. It was now confirmed.

"Ten minutes," he kissed her cheek. "Be ready."

He stripped down with the bathroom door locked behind him. His grin refused to go away. Desire still raced through him like wildfire, ignited anew by her _sari_. He made a quick decision as he stepped into the shower stall and braced himself with a hand on the wall. The other went to work as his mind replayed taking off her dress. Her pink bra framing her breasts. Her soft moans when he'd taken her into his mouth.

Her head falling onto his shoulder, her hair a midnight waterfall. Her nails clawing at his skin, desperate and wild. His name on her lips.

Her heat, silken with her need.

"Fuck," he closed his eyes.

Her sharp cry. The clench of her body around his finger, again and again and again.

He spilled with a low groan.

True to his word, he was out ten minutes later, dressed in slacks and a shirt. Khushi fiddled with a makeup kit as she sat at the mirror. Meeting his gaze in the reflection, she pouted.

"I don't know what to do with half of these things."

He approached with a frown, "Should I call Payal?"

"No, I'll just go without. We're running late."

"Give me a minute," he murmured. "Close your eyes."

She eyed him suspiciously before complying. He used his fingers, quickly dipping into the kit to swipe colour across her eyelids and pat rouge on her cheeks and lips.

"Okay," he announced when he was done.

Khushi turned warily to her reflection and gasped.

"Where did you learn that?!" another suspicious look.

Arnav snatched his tie from the bed after wiping his fingers on some tissues. "I work with models every day, Khushi. Almost done?"

She quickly applied _kajal_ , "Done."

He shrugged into his waistcoat and jacket. Running to the bed, she slid into the shoes that waited while waving a small black and pink handbag at him.

"I bought this today!"

"It's nice," he changed his shoes and gestured to the door, "Make sure you have your phone. Let's go."

He noticed something missing as she hurried over.

" _Sindoor_ ," he reminded Khushi.

" _Hai Devi Maiyya_!"

In the ensuing flurry of activity, she dropped the pen she liked to use. Arnav snatched up the small golden pot on the table, "Come here."

She stilled, wide-eyed as he pinched the powder. A heady sense of love and possession rushed through him when he filled the part of her hair.

"Arnav-ji ..."

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he spoke softly.

"When you look at me like that, it makes me think you don't know that I'm in love with you."

He pretended not to notice the way she'd frozen in shock and bent to kiss her. "Don't destroy me, Khushi."

Her bottom lip quivered.

"Don't ruin all my hard work by crying," he turned towards the door.

She caught up with him before he'd taken five steps along the corridor, and wrapped her hands around his bicep.

"I don't know anyone there," she worried.

"The whole family will be there," he dropped a kiss to her hair, "and I'll stay with you as much as I can."

He bent to whisper in her ear as they rounded the corner and saw Aakash and Payal waiting on the couches downstairs, "And later tonight, maybe we can practise being quiet again?"

* * *

 _ **A friendly reminder that this story will NOT update to a schedule.**_ _Please don't comment asking for more updates, it will only upset me at a time when things are very difficult._

* * *

 _As always, a heartfelt thanks to everyone who takes the time to read and to comment on **Charade**._

 _A special message to booknerdforlife21,_ Perditrix _, and HoneyInDaRock - You folks are my light. Words will never be enough. Thank you, thank you, thank you._


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